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3  0050  06583  2361 


ormruj 


V0L4 


1986-87 


ZNorfk&oU  9Ugk 


SUrufye 


;D&  52748 


SCOTT  COUNTY  LIBRARY  SYSTEM 

563-285-4794 

www.scottcountylibrary.org 


3  0050  06583  2361 


Sc*  Countv  Library  Svsteir' 
Hdare:  200  N.6tn  Avenue 

Bdndge.M  52748 


Star 


EDITORS 

Shellie  Littrel,  Editor-in-chief 
Angie  Baker,  Art  Editor 
Jennifer  Blavat,  Layout  Editor 

EDITORIAL  BOARD 

Angie  Baker 
Jennifer  Blavat 
Tammy  Damron 
Julie  Hested 
Heather  Holland 

ADVISORS 

Gene  Conrad,  Linda  McClurg,  Harlan  VanderVinne, 
Language  Arts  Department 

SPECIAL  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

Craig  Hintz,  Principal 

Bernie  Peeters,  Art  Instructor 

Len  Cockman,  Language  Arts  Instructor 

Carmene  Granger,  Business  Education  Instructor 

Karen  Wyatt,  Typist 

COVER  ART 

Laurie  Cawiezell 

LANGUAGE  ARTS  FACULTY 

Len  Cockman  Dennis  Hennigan  Steve  Mohr 

Gene  Conrad  Judith  Jacobs  Connie  Nagel 

Diane  Hall  Linda  McClurg  Harlan  VanderVinne 

MORNING  STAR.... 

...is  the  name  of  a  medieval  weapon,  but  the  term  also 
signifies  the  awakening  freshness  and  potential  of  young 
artists  and  writers  at  North  Scott.  This  fourth  annual 
collection  of  creative  student  expression  joins  The  Lance, 
the  student  newspaper,  and  The  Shield,  the  yearbook,  as 
productions  of  the  North  Scott  High  School  Language  Arts 
Department . 


Shellie  Littrel 
Michelle  Petersen 
Megan  Schirman 
Darcey  Timmerman 
Carrie  Weidenhamer 


Why  Brown  Cows  Make  Chocolate  Milk 

Many  years  ago,  before  the  city  of  Hershey,  Pennsylvania, 
there  was  no  chocolate  in  this  land.  The  people  didn't  realize 
what  it  was,  or  the  yumminess  the  flavor  held. 

Now,  one  day  Mr.  Smith  (everyone  was  named  Smith  in  those 
days)  came  across  an  unusual  looking  cow  while  walking  across  a 
pasture . 

"My  goodness  gracious  to  the  great  Lord  above.  What  an 
unusual  looking  cow!"  he  exclaimed. 

And  indeed  it  was.  For  this  cow  was  all  one  color ....  brown . 
Not  a  single  other  color  anywhere  else  on  her  body,  just  a  single 
shade  of  brown. 

"You  don't  seem  to  belong  to  anybody.  I'll  just  take  you 
home  with  me.  You're  an  unusual  looking  cow.  I'll  call  you 
Bessie."  (Every  cow  was  named  Bessie  in  those  days). 

So  Mr.  Smith  took  Bessie  home  to  let  her  feed  and  sleep  as 
she  pleased.  Yes,  all  was  well. 

The  next  morning,  Mr.  Smith  went  to  milk  Bessie  for  a  good, 
wholesome  amount  of  calcium  for  breakfast.  He  was  merrily 
whistling  as  he  squirted  the  milk  into  his  gallon  jug. 

"Good  morning,  Bessie.  Let's  see  how  much  milk  you've  got 
for  me  today." 

He  looked  into  his  jug  to  see  brown  milk  filling  it  up. 

"My  goodness  gracious  to  the  great  Lord  above,  what  is  going 
on?  This  milk  can't  be  rotten  -  it's  fresh-squeezed." 

He  lifted  the  jug  to  his  lips  and  sipped  the  warm  liquid. 

"Why,  it's  milk,  but  the  flavor  is  unlike  anything  I've  ever 
tasted.  It  must  be  some  exotic  taste  that  no  one  has  ever  tried. 
I'll  call  it  chocolate _ chocolate  milk." 

Mr.  Smith  ran  to  his  house  to  start  figuring  profit  and  when 
he  could  start  selling  his  milk. 

That  is  why  brown  cows  make  chocolate  milk.  You  say  they 
don't?  Well,  let  me  finish  my  story. 

After  Mr.  Smith  finished  calculating,  he  ran  back  to  Bessie 
to  try„*to  milk  her  again. 

As  he  was  milking,  along  came  a  cute  little  rabbit  and  he 
watched  Mr.  Smith  milk  Bessie.  He  carried  a  container  with  him 
and  with  a  twitch  of  his  nose  the  chocolate  turned  into  powder  and 
filled  the  rabbit's  container,  leaving  Mr.  Smith  with  plain  old 
milk.  The  rabbit  tore  off  taking  his  container  with  him. 

"My  goodness  gracious  to  the  great  Lord  above,  what  a  quick 
rabbit." 

He  sadly  dragged  himself  back  to  his  house,  leaving  the 
rabbit  to  make  a  fortune  from  chocolate  powder  for  milk.... to  make 
chocolate  milk. 

To  this  day,  a  single-shaded  brown  cow  has  yet  to  be  found, 
leaving  the  quick  rabbit  to  prosper. 


Shellie  Littrel, 


'88 


Memories 


You  said  we'd  be  together 
Until  the  end  of  time. 

I  honestly  believed  that 
I  could  call  you  mine. 

The  time  we  spent  with  one  another 
Seemed  to  pass  by  fast. 

The  way  you  talked,  the  way  I  felt, 
I  was  sure  that  we  would  last. 

The  hourless  conversations. 

The  walks  along  the  streets, 

The  hugs  and  embraces  I'd  receive 
Every  time  that  we  would  meet. 

You  said  your  word  was  good. 

Your  promises  you  would  keep; 

Then  without  warning  you  left 
Leaving  me  to  weep. 

You  took  with  you  not  only 
Your  love,  but  mine. 

And  although  my  heart  is  broken. 

It  will  slowly  heal  in  time. 

But  even  though  you  took  all  this, 
Leaving  me  alone  and  blue, 

You  can't  take  away  the  memories 
Of  the  time  I  spent  with  you. 


Patty  Keppy,  '88 


Young  Mother's  Death 

Trying  to  be  young  men  as  they  were, 
it  seemed  so  hard  to  keep 
the  tears  inside. 

But  father  was  crying,  so  the  boys  knew 
it  was  all  right  to  cry. 


Katherine  Main,  '88 


The  Winning  Game 


Three  -  Two  -  One  -  BUZZt!  As  I  heard  the  roar  of  the 
opposing  teams's  crowd,  I  struggled  to  get  my  sweaty, 
exhausted  body  off  the  court.  I  held  back  my  emotion  until 
the  locker  room.  Then  I  saw  a  tear  fall  from  the  face  of  my 
coach,  I  realized  a  dream  was  shattered.  We,  the  Jefferson 
Wildcats,  had  lost  the  State  Championship  by  three  points. 

Up  until  this  moment  we  were  undefeated.  I  believed 
that  we  were  number  one  since  the  beginning  of  the  season  and 
the  rankings  proved  it  to  be  true.  Our  team  was  definitely 
physically  prepared  for  the  big  game  but  now  I  wondered  if  we 
were  mentally  prepared.  After  all  the  exciting  pep  rallies 
we  were  built  up  with  such  confidence  and  enthusiasm  from  our 
supporting  fans.  We  obviously  needed  to  prepare  our  minds 
more.  If  we  would  have  lost  a  game  before,  we  could  have 
learned  how  to  lose  a  game  and  use  it  to  our  advantage. 

Lying  awake  in  bed  going  through  the  game  a  million 
times  thinking  "what  if....".  I  realized  I  had  lost  nothing. 
I  could  sit  and  replay  the  mistakes  in  my  mind  over  and  over 
again,  but  nothing  would  change  what  I  had  gained.  It  was  a 
rare  experience  of  participating  on  a  successful  team.  I 
know  now  that  we  won  as  a  team,  lost  as  a  team,  and  always 
will  be  a  team.  In  this  sense,  we  all  came  out  winners. 


Kelly  McFate ,  '88 


The  First  Snow  of  Winter 


I  look  outside  the  window 
And  much  to  my  surprise  - 
I  see  tiny,  silver  flakes 
Falling  from  the  sky. 


Small  miracles  from  up  above 
Long  and  duly  awaited  - 
Now  it  truly  must  be  winter 
For  the  snow  is  finally  falling. 


Stacee  LaRue,  '88 


A  Toast  to  Him 


I  see  him  more  often  now, 
he  soothes  me, 
he  loves  me. 

No  one  understands, 
he  loves  me. 

They  tell  me  to  leave  him, 
how  can  I? 
he  loves  me. 

He  is  my  lover, 
my  life. 

He  would  never  hurt  me, 
he  loves  me. 

The  more  I  see  of  him  lately, 

there  is  a  feeling  that  is  growing, 
it  tingles,  maybe  burns, 
could  it  be  hate? 

Don't  be  ridiculous. 

As  I  close  my  eyes,  and  my  body  relaxes, 
I  hear  the  familiar  sound 
of  my  bottle  hitting  the  floor. 


Celeste  Lorenz,  '88 


Thinking  of  Spring 

I  can  not  wait  until  once  again  - 

The  sun  will  shine,  the  birds  will  sing. 

I'll  go  outside,  look  into  the  sky  - 
And  hope  that  you  are  there. 

The  flowers  will  rise  from  their  long  winter  nap 
With  the  buzzing  bees  close  by, 

And  I'll  wonder  why  - 

This  time  comes  only  once  a  year. 

Stacee  LaRue,  '88 


4 


Sharp  notes  and  strange  harmonies 
Reminisce  a  springtime  dream- 
I  danced  for  the  last  child  to  feel 
Its  touch,  when  I  began  to  reel. 
Slowly,  slid  a  heavy  beat. 

Black  and  sunshine  in  the  heat- 
Bloody  clouds  across  the  sky, 

Summer  blossomed  with  a  sigh. 
Anxieties  that  died  away, 

Live  the  nighttime,  love  the  day- 
One  smile,  and  it  was  me  he  told: 
Mama,  take  me 
Home  sweet  home. 


Megan  Shirman,  '90 


Questions 


So  many  feelings, 
but  no  thoughts. 

Full  of  emotion, 
yet  empty. 

I  feel  everything, 
but  I  am  numb, 
it  makes  no  sense, 
but  is  so  logical. 

What  does  love  feel  like? 

Is  it  a  feeling  at  all? 

All  the  questions  in  the  world, 
jumbled  in  my  brain. 

The  answers  are  somewhere, 
but  will  I  ever  find  them? 
is  he  the  answer, 
or  just  another  question? 


Karen  Brotherton, 


'90 


5 


We're  changing, 

You  and  me  and 
Him  and  her. 

Finding  our  identities, 
and  changing. 

Drifting  apart 

As  we  seek  out  ourselves, 

And  our  interests  and  likes. 

As  we  change . 

Sticking  to  our  beliefs 
While  seeking  out  others. 

To  share  with  new  people, 

New  places,  new  things. 

We'll  always  be  friends, 

Always  have  memories. 

But  right  now  we  must  part; 

For  we're  changing, 

You  and  me  and 
Him  and  her. 

We're  changing.... 

And  sometimes,  change  is  good. 


Shellie  Littrel,  '88 


Life  Unfair 

Does  anyone,  anywhere, 

Ever  stop  to  care. 

Life  seems  so  unfair. 

Death  that  gives,  sometimes,  no  warning. 
Then  comes  the  mourning. 

Some  know  of  life's  end,  and 
They  try  to  make  amends. 

But  in  the  end, 

Life  seems  so  unfair. 


Mark  Mess,  '88 


6 


Neighbors . 

Across  the  front  lawn. 
Out  the  back  door. 

Down  the  street, 

Over  the  stream. 
Neighbors . 

Out  of  town. 

Over  the  ridge. 

Across  the  country, 
Around  the  world. 
Neighbors . 


Ben  Auliff,  '88 


Don't  Fall  in  Love 

Don't  ever  fall  in  love,  my  friend, 
you  see  it  doesn't  say. 

Although  it  causes  broken  hearts, 
it  happens  every  day. 

You'll  wonder  where  she  is  at  night. 
You'll  wonder  if  she's  true. 

One  moment  you'll  be  happy, 
the  next  one  you'll  be  blue. 

And  when  it  starts  you  don't  know  why, 
you'll  worry  day  and  night. 

You  see,  my  friend, 

I'm  losing  her. 

It  never  turns  out  right. 

So  if  you  ever  fall  in  love, 
you'll  hurt  before  it's  through. 

You  see,  my  friend, 
you  ought  to  know. . . . 

I  fell  in  love  with  you! 


Joe  O'Rourke,  '87 


7 


Chocolate  chip  cookies  are  the  best. 

But  if  I  eat  this  one, 

I'll  never  fit  into  this  dress. 

Tomorrow  morning.  I'll  step  on  the  scale. 
My  weight  will  look  like  a  humpback  whale. 

Oh  dear,  oh  dear,  what  should  I  do? 

I  know!  I'll  give  this  cookie  to  you! 


Ann  Newton,  '88 


Faithfully 

I've  tried  to  call  you, 
several  times. 

But  you  are  never  home. 

Sometimes  after  I  hang  up, 

I  feel  so  alone. 

I  really  should  get  over  you, 
This  I  know  is  true. 

The  only  problem  is, 

I  still  love  you. 

I  guess  I'd  better  end  this  now, 
So  nothing  will  be  said 
needlessly. 

If  you  ever  need  me, 

I  want  you  to  know, 

I'm  still  here. 

Faithfully. 


Michele  Manley,  '88 


9 


HOLSTEIN 


The  Story  of  a  Groovy  Penguin 


Most  penguins  that  live  in  California  are  a  little 
demented,  but  Holstein  takes  the  cake.  Let  me  introduce  myself. 
My  name  is  Baxter  Aberdeen.  I'm,  well,  I  hate  to  say  this  but, 
I'm  one  of  Holstein's  best  friends.  No,  let  me  rephrase  that. 

I'm  Holstein's  only  friend.  At  least  I'm  the  only  one  that 
halfway  understands  him. 

This  is  his  story. 

It  all  started  in  a  place  called  Chernobyl.  Apparently, 
Holstein  had  been  sent  there  for  studies  by  Russian  scientists. 
I'm  afraid  I  must  interrupt  myself  and  beg  you  to  remember  that 
Holstein  told  me  all  of  this  at  an  incredibly  early  hour  in  the 
morning.  He  skipped  parts  of  the  story  and  other  parts  I  slept 
through.  Anyway,  Holstein  was  in  Russia  when  the  nuclear  plant 
"sprung  a  leak",  as  he  so  eloquently  put  it.  He  told  me  that  he 
vaguely  remembers  his  past  life  but  he  said  it  was  extremely 
stuffy. 

Holstein  didn't  remember  how  he  escaped  from  Russia. 

All  that  he  knows  is  that  he  stole  Gorbachov's  personal  limousine 
and  that  he  is  now  wanted  by  the  KGB.  He  said  he  had  to  get  out 
because  the  Russian  "madmen"  were  trying  to  make  him  fly, 
Personally,  I  don't  blame  him. 

He  got  to  California,  somehow.  He  never  told  me  how  he 
got  here.  I  guess  I  never  asked  because  I  was  so  astonished  with 
him  when  I  first  met  him.  His  appearance  would  astonish  anyone. 

The  first  time  that  I  met  him  was  at  a  park  just  outside 
of  Napa  Valley.  I  was  peacefully  gnawing  on  a  T-bone  steak 
when  I  was  startled  by  an  obnoxious  little  red  MG.  It  went 
roaring  through  the  park  spraying  mud  all  over  me.  Of  course,  you 
can  guess  who  it  was.  He  circled  the  park  and  came  to  a 
screeching  halt  right  in  front  of  me,  splattering  me,  once  again, 
with  mud. 

"Like  woe,  dude.  Are  you  OK?  I  can't  believe  how  high 
that  mud  flew,  man.  It's  like,  wow,"  he  said. 

"Well,  I  think  I  shall  be  all  right.  Are  you  all  right? 
Don't  you  know  the  rules  of  this  park?  I  say,  where  did  you  get 
that  car?  You're  a  penguin.  What  in  Heaven's  name  are  you  doing 
in  California?" 

"Hey,  you're  a  dog.  Did  you  go  to  college  or  something? 
Where  did  you,  like,  get  that  great  accent?  Hey  man,  are  you  with 
the  KGB?  You  ask  a  lot  of  questions." 

As  you  may  have  already  judged  by  our  first 
conversation,  we  are  almost  as  opposite  as  two  beings  could  be. 
It's  amazing  that  we  were  as  civil  as  we  were  when  we  first  met. 

I  will  spare  you  the  description  of  my  first  car  ride  with  him. 
Let's  just  say  it  will  change  your  life . or  end  it. 


continued 


continued .... 

He  and  I  became  friends,  and  I  must  inform  you  that  it  was 
more  his  decision  than  mine.  We  have  been  friends  for  quite  a 
while.  I  had  to  help  him  clear  up  his  problem  with  the  KGB.  It 
turned  out  that  all  they  wanted  to  know  was  how  he  got  the 
limousine  and  where  it  was  when  he  left  Russia. 

Holstein  has  calmed  down  a  little  bit.  I  think  it's  partly 
because  his  red  MG  is  pink  now.  He  ran  it  through  a  car  wash  and 
the  solution  was  seventy-five  percent  bleach.  Their  machines  were 
on  the  fritz.  He  was  heartbroken  for  several  weeks. 

I  should  like  to  think  that  more  of  his  story  will  be  printed 
in  the  near  future,  if  I  could  ever  find  the  rest  of  it.  I  have 
written  all  of  my  experiences  with  Holstein  down  in  my  memoirs.  I 
stored  them  in  a  box  in  the  basement  of  Holstein's  apartment  and 
now  I  can't  find  them  anywhere.  Holstein  has  something  to  do  with 
it.  I  know.  I  just  wanted  to  know  that  someone  would  know  that  I 
wasn't  crazy.  There  is  a  "groovy"  penguin  named  Holstein  who 
lives  in  California. 


Lori  Smith,  '88 


Summer  to  Fall 

Our  time  together  was  like  summer  to  fall. 

It  flowered  so  beautifully,  then  shrunk  so  small. 
One  day  it  was  here,  I  held  it  so  tight. 

The  next  it  was  gone,  and  out  of  my  sight. 

,Jt  was  soft  and  warm,  just  like  the  sun, 

Then  suddenly  cold,  my  dearest  one. 

The  only  way  it's  not  the  same, 

Is  summer  comes  back,  and  you'll  stay  away . 


Connie  Moore,  '89 


11 


The  feel  of  the  cool  breeze  against  my  face  felt  good.  The 
sound  of  the  skiis  cutting  across  the  blinding  white  snow  was 
refreshing  to  my  ears.  There  was  only  me  speeding  down  the 
mountain,  challenging  it,  daring  it  to  beat  me. 

I  was  fifteen  when  I  first  stepped  into  a  world  that  would 
capture  my  heart.  It  was  a  world  unlike  others,  a  world  of  speed, 
skill,  and  challenge. 

My  heart  beat  rapidly  as  I  waited  at  the  top  of  the  hill  for 
my  turn  to  come.  Then  as  I  slowly  started  down  the  hill  my  heart 
filled  with  fear,  but  my  mind  filled  with  determination.  I  was 
going  to  succeed.  Before  I  realized  what  had  happened,  the  skiis 
were  gaining  speed  and  I  was  racing  down  the  hill.  Panic  covered 
my  face  and  I  fell  into  the  cold,  wet  snow.  Tears  stung  my  eyes. 

I  had  failed;  the  hill  had  beaten  me. 

I  was  too  embarrassed  and  tired  to  get  up.  The  beauty  of  the 
night  had  disappeared.  The  stars  didn't  shine  as  brightly,  the 
moon  seemed  to  be  laughing  at  me,  and  the  excitement  that  had  been 
in  the  air  now  seemed  to  be  suffocating  me.  I  wished  I  were 
invisible . 

As  I  was  sitting  there,  feeling  defeated,  he  stopped  beside 
me.  He  didn't  speak  but  his  eyes  encouraged  me.  They  seemed  to 
show  understanding.  His  smile  warmed  my  heart  and  I  returned  the 
gesture.  With  that  he  gave  a  chuckle  and  went  on.  I  began  to 
feel  foolish.  What  was  I  afraid  of?  Others  weren't  mocking  me  or 
staring  at  me;  they  were  supporting  me.  If  I  gave  up  now  it  would 
be  accepting  defeat. 

Brushing  the  snow  off  my  pants,  I  stood  up  and  regained 
ray  balance.  Taking  a  deep  breath,  I  started  down  the  hill  again. 
Slowly  my  skiis  began  gaining  speed  until  once  again  I  fell.  The 
night  continued  with  my  attempts  ending  in  cold,  wet  defeat,  but 
each  time  I  felt  stronger  and  better  than  the  time  before. 

The  night  was  coming  to  an  end  and  still  I  hadn't  beaten  the 
hill.  I  glanced  at  the  hill  marked  Banzi.  I  wanted  to  beat  that 
hill.  Working  my  way  over  to  the  top  of  it,  I  stood  staring 
toward  the  bottom.  There  was  time  for  one  more  run  and  this  was 
going  to  be  it.  Summing  up  all  my  courage,  I  dug  my  poles  deep 
into  the  snow  and  pushed  off  down  the  hill.  My  start  was  shaky 
but  my  determination  and  concentration  kept  me  from  hitting  the 
snow.  I  was  now  half  way  down  the  hill  and  going  faster  than  ever 
before.  The  cold  wind  was  burning  my  face  but  I  was  warm  inside. 
The  further  down  the  hill  I  was,  the  more  speed  I  gained.  This 
time  the  run  was  different.  I  wasn't  scared  and  panicy  but 
instead  I  was  feeling  the  sensation  of  freedom  skiing  could  give 
you.  The  concentration  it  took  paid  off  for  the  triumph  I  felt 
once  I  had  succeeded.  I  had  done  it;  I  had  challenged  the  hill 
and  won. 


continued . . . . 


continued 


The  night  was  once  again  filled  with  beauty.  The  stars  were 
winking  at  me  and  the  moon  was  smiling  with  me. 

Sitting  in  the  warm  lodge,  I  reluctantly  took  off  my  ski 
equipment.  I  turned  where  I  was  sitting  and  glanced  at  the  hills 
which  had  freed  me  from  my  world.  With  a  smile  I  strapped  on  my 
artificial  leg  and  hobbled  out  to  my  car.  Soon  I  would  return  to 
challenge  the  hills  once  again. 


Renee  Fairweather,  '88 


The  Golden  Chain 

Once  upon  the  sands  of  time 
Two  lovers  played  a  game. 

With  a  vow  of  love  forever 
They  built  a  golden  chain. . . . 

With  a  love  that  saw  no  boundaries 

Nor  the  foe  crept  in  unseen 

Or  the  tarnished  links 

Brought  on  by  time 

And  a  chain  no  longer  clean.... 

It  seemed  so  quickly  broken 
And  no  longer  held  the  strain 
There  on  the  sands  of  time 
Lay  a  worthless  golden  chain.... 

With  years  of  haunting  memories 
That  only  God  and  lovers  know 
The  vow  of  eternal  love 
Would  not  ebb  its  flow.... 

Then  came  a  miracle 

Again  two  lovers  played  a  game 

There  on  the  sands  of  time 

Was  found  a  priceless 

Golden  chain 


Dawn  Benthin,  '88 


Carrie  Whitney,  '88 


Hello,  here  I  ami 
I  know  you  see  me. 

Peek-a-boo , 

There  you  are, 

I  see  you. 

Hide  and  seek. 

Don't  tease,  you  kidder. 

Here  I  am. 

Look,  over  here! 

See? 

Here  I  am. 

There  you  are. 

Now  we're  together. 

Stop  playing  games! 

Here  we  are, 

Together . 

Hopscotch  and  jumprope. 

You're  playing  again. 

We're  still  together, 

Having  fun. 

Isn't  that  what  it's  all  about? 
Fun  and  games. 


Shellie  Littrel, 


I  sit  here, 

Thinking  of  you, 

Of  our  future, 

And  wonder .... 

How  will  we  change? 

Will  you  really  love  me? 

I  sit  and  wonder, 

Of  us, 

And  life. 

It's  too  confusing. 

I  don't  want  to  know.... 

Not  yet. 

I'll  enjoy  today,  today, 
Tomorrow,  tomorrow. 

Not  that  I'm  not  curious, 

I  am. 

I  just  can't  know. 

So,  I'll  accept  that, 

But.... I  sit  here  ... .wondering . 


'88 


Shellie  Littrel,  '88 


16 


The  Little  Boy  and  the  Pebble 

Little  boy's  hands, 
tiny  and  precious, 

wanting  to  touch  all  simple  things  in  the  world. 

He  knew  of  no  danger. 

The  little  boy  stood  holding  in  his  little  hands  a 
pebble . 

The  pebble  would  not  leave  the  boy's  hands 
for  they  felt  soft  and  safe. 

"You  trust  me",  the  little  boy  said,  "you  will  be  safe 
and  warm  in  my  hands, 

for  the  world  is  strange  and  unknown  to  me." 

Since  the  boy  told  the  pebble  that  he  would  protect  it, 
the  pebble  would  promise  him  happiness. 

The  small,  gullible  boy  took  the  pebble  with  him, 
everywhere  he  went. 

He  would  tell  the  pebble  secrets  and  tell  him  about  his 
dreams . 

The  pebble  said,  "You  have  kept  me  safe  and  warm  -  I 
said  I'd  give  you  happiness  -  wish  upon  me  and  your 
dreams  will  come  true". 

The  little  boy's  face,  pink  and  round,  grew  a  smile. 

He  whispered  into  his  hands  where  the  pebble  was  placed. 
That  night  the  little  boy  and  the  pebble  went  to  sleep. 

Quietly,  the  sun  crept  over  the  hills  and  shone  in 
through  the  windows. 

The  little  hands  of  the  boy  clasped  tightly  together,  as 
if  he  were  praying. 

There  lay  the  small  boy  -  dead  with  the  pebble  in  his 
^little  hands. 


Katherine  Main,  '88 


17 


It  seemed  odd  to  me  that  anyone  would  call  upon  me 
at  such  an  hour  of  the  night,  but  what  I  saw  out  of  my 
parlor  window  was  not  my  imagination.  I  really  should 
not  have  been  awake  at  all  but  the  pending  storm  had 
kept  me  up  to  read  that  evening. 

What  I  saw  on  my  cobbled  drive  was  a  black  carriage 
drawn  by  two  black  steeds  that  were  only  a  silhouette 
against  the  forbidding  sky.  I  saw  a  man  dressed  in  a 
black  overcoat  and  a  black  top  hat  descend  from  the 
carriage.  His  attire  did  not  surprise  me,  for  it  was 
the  custom  of  the  day.  I  had  to  go  to  the  door  myself 
because  it  was  the  help's  night  off. 

I  noticed  that  the  man's  skin  was  very  pale  as  he 
stepped  into  my  front  hall.  He  introduced  himself  as 
B.  U.  Bexleeb.  Later,  he  told  me  that  the  B.  U.  was  for 
Benjamin  Ulysses,  but  for  now  I  was  intent  on 
discovering  the  purpose  of  his  visit.  He  informed  me 
that  he  too  was  a  collector,  similar  to  myself.  At  this 
point,  I  asked  to  take  his  coat  and  hat  but  he  refused, 
saying  that  he  would  only  be  a  minute. 

I  showed  Benjamin  into  my  parlor  and  told  him  of  my 
evening's  activity  because  of  the  possible  storm.  Soon 
we  were  on  the  subject  of  my  collection  of  antiques  and 
rarities,  which  I  understood  was  the  purpose  of  his 
visit.  One  thing  he  told  me  struck  me  strangely.  When 
I  asked  him  kow  he  chose  the  things  to  put  in  his 
collection,  he  answered  me  with  a  far  away  look,  stating 
that  it  took  a  great  deal  of  thought  and  soul  searching 
to  find  the  perfect  items. 

This  statement  caught  me  off  guard  and  I  dropped  my 
book  to  the  floor.  He  leaned  to  pick  it  up  for  me  and 
his  top  hat  fell  also.  To  my  horror  it  revealed  two 
small  horns  on  his  head.  I  floundered  backward  with 
fear  and  fell  into  my  easy  chair,  seeking  shelter.  He 
only  smiled  as  I  asked  him  why  he  was  really  here.  He 
l»aughed  and  said,  "Why,  I  have  come  to  collect  you!" 


Ben  Auliff,  '88 


19 


20 


Lonely 

Sad 

White  walls 
Unclean  rooms 
Bars 

s 

e 

P 

a 

r 

a 

t 

i 

n 

9 


You  ,  .  , 

Prom  the  rest  of  the  world. 

Being  treated  like  children  when  you  re 

actually  grown  up. 
is  this  what  your  dream 
decided  to  kill? 


was  when  you 


Tammy  Damron,  '88 


Remembrance 

You  are  but  a  remembrance  now, 
though  once  you  were  reality. 

Once  there  was  fulfillment, 
now  the  feelings  are  lacking. 

Once  we  walked  hand-in  hand, 
becoming  one. 

Now  as  I  walk  alone, 

I  stop  to  think  of  how  it  would  be, 
if  we  were  still  as  one. 

You  are  but  a  remembrance. 


Nikki  Carr,  '89 


The  little  boy  found  what  his  mommy  used  to  liqht 
the  long  white  roll  of  tobacco  leaves.  it  fascinated 
him,  the  little  flame  that  stood  for  warmth  and 

i  t f  wnu  f  h  "  m  But.the  Httle  boy  did  not  realize  that  soon 
it  would  mean  danger. 

in  for  *  while'  finally  succeeding 

m  making  the  flame  dance  like  his  mommy  did.  But  it 

f lame°°  l!0t'  and  he  dr°PPed  the  threatening 

ame.  The  little  boy  saw  the  room  dance  like  the 

th2t1Lroame*  ^5ied  for  help.  The  book  of  matches 
that  were  once  in  his  reach  were  now  swallowed  up  by  the 

L  JL  3IH6  S  •  j 

felt  someone  jerk  him  out  of  the  shack  and  he 
elt  the  cool  air.  He  saw  his  mommy  crying. 

..  4_Batjr'  .  the  little  boy  heard  his  mommy  talkinq  to 
the  tired  firechief  who  explained  the  cauje  of  the  f?re 
She  cried  once  more.  e* 


Kelli  Hoag,  '90 


Pride 

w.ifr.5aJkin?KUpfct0.the  Platform'  1  stood  shivering  as  I 
waited  for  the  tram.  As  I  waited,  I  noticed  a  stranqe 

familv^o  Se^-°n  3  large  St6el  bench'  m°tioning  his 
family  to  join  him.  His  face  was  haggard  and 

weather-beaten,  his  eyes  a  listless  blue  that  shifted 

weanly  from  face  to  face.  His  clothes  looked  as  if 

"threadbfrenCeH?ce^made  °f  9  fine  raaterial  hut  were  now 
v™  *  *H  dingy/  gray  coat  hung  in  folds  on  his 

ony  frame,  frayed  and  patched  in  spots.  His  fingers 

aKd  h5  ruffled  the  hair  °f  a  very  sman  boy 

who  had  clambered  up  into  his  mother's  ample  lap. 

suitcase  %£  •  °th?!.thrfe  ^ildren  sat  three  small 
used  '  their  multi-colored  surfaces  patched  and  very 

mv  interpT'V^  ®hifted  lazily  to  now  aware  of 

his  hlrl  fnA  U*  se.nsed  my  pity'  he  straightened 

his  back  and  lifted  his  jutting  chin  proudly. 

nnHHoHhf  ll?^I  rain  stoPPed'  and  I  smiled  at  him  and 

J  ,a  P°llte  greetin9*  My  pity  was  vanishing  to  be 
*lth  respect.  Although  this  man  was  poor  and 

Ke  6SS;-he  h9d  kept  his  pride'  as  ^  he  were 

tne  richest  man  alive. 


Tracy  Kirby,  '90 


An  Autumn  Stroll 


I  stood  silently  in  the  dark  shadows  near  the  door. 
A  typical  autumn  day  calls  me,  pulls  at  me.  I  step 
outdoors  to  hear  leaves  rustling  quietly  and  birds 
faintly  singing  in  the  background.  There  is  a  distinct 
fall  taste  in  the  crisp  air.  A  slight  chill  envelops 
me . 

The  cool  grass  below  me  tickles  my  feet,  and  the 
beads  of  dew  congregate  on  my  pant  legs.  The  clouds 
above  me  meander  about  the  sky.  Somewhere  I  can  smell 
summer  flowers  as  they  cling  desperately  to  life. 

Ambling  to  the  playground,  I  pause  momentarily  to 
study  the  children  at  play.  Their  loud  and  boisterous 
behavior  reminds  me  of  my  own  days  as  an  elementary 
student . 

I  now  search  for  human  company  to  share  this 
pleasant  experience  with  me. 

I  wander  aimlessly  for  a  long  while,  reveling  in 
the  splendor  of  an  autumn  morn.  As  I  am  almost  to  the 
campus,  I  spot  my  favorite  tree  to  the  left.  It's  been 
a  while,  I  think  to  myself.  I  slowly  approach  the 
comforting  overhanging  branches,  and  as  I  do  so,  a 
girl's  tears  sting  the  silence.  They  bring  back 
memories  for  me.  Many  a  time  I  had  come  to  this  spot 
seeking  compassion,  aloneness,  anything  to  make  me  feel 
better . 

I  observe  from  a  distance  a  young  girl  sobbing 
there.  For  some  reason  she  looks  familiar,  yet  she 
remains  foreign  to  me.  As  she  turns  to  face  me,  I  am 
shocked  by  what  I  see.  The  girl  is  pretty,  petite, 
with  dark  hair  and  large  blue  eyes.  But  this  face  is 
anything  but  strange,  for  I  am  staring  at  myselfl 
Slowly  I  turn  to  retrace  my  steps  home. 


Jami  Van  Ryswyk,  '90 


23 


Preguntas  del  Corazon 

Al  sentarte  y  pensar,  al^sonar  y  esperar  de  lo  que  sera, 
al,  mirar  y  esperar  los  dias  mejores,  dejas  pasar  los 
dias  mejores. 

Al  sentarte  junto  al  telefono,  nada  pasa  y  estas  sola. 
Esa  persona  especial  no^llama,  tu  corazon  se  esfa 
hundiendo,  tu  mente  esta  pensando.  <<Esta  enamorado  o 
esta  solamente  jugando?  jCon  quien  esta  y  cual  es  su 
nombre?  Ay,  si  pudiera  parar  esas  preguntas  locas  del 
corazon . 


Questions  of  the  Heart 


Do  you  ever  sit  and  think,  dream  and  hope  of  what  will 
be,  watch  and  wait  for  better  days,  let  the  good  ones 
slip  away? 

Do  you  ever  sit  by  the  phone,  nothing  happens,  you're 
all  alone?  That  special  person  doesn't  call,  your  heart 
is  thinking,  your  mind  is  thinking.  Does  he  care  or  is 
he  just  playing  games?  Who's  he  with  and  what's  her 
name?  Do  you  ever  wish  you  could  stop  those  crazy 
questions  of  the  heart? 


Melissa  Grimes,  '87 

MlMnMTMMl 

mqpVi 

Feeling  the  warmth  of  the  sun, 

I  smile  at  you. 

We  take  a  walk  to  share  a 
special  time  alone  - 
talking  of  the  past, 
looking  to  the  future. 

This  place  we  have  come 
to  gather  our  thoughts. 


Katherine  Main,  '88 


A  Difficult  Moment 


Today  a  strong  feeling  makes  me  write  about  how 
difficult  it  is  to  change  from  one  place  to  another, 
without  your  family,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  about  my 
experience . 

A  year  ago  I  was  walking  along  the  street  in  my 
town  ( Mi ramar-Puntarenas-Costa  Rica),  when  someone  came 
to  me.  This  person  was  the  principal  of  my  school.  He 
said,  "Tavo,  I  want  to  know  if  you  would  like  to 
participate  in  a  foreign  exchange  program  to  the 
U.S.A."  I  didn't  have  words  to  tell  him  how  excited  I 
was.  I  said  "Yes,  I  will  do  anything  to  get  in  this 
program."  He  said,  "You  just  have  to  attend  a  seminary. 
Your  grades  give  you  the  opportunity  to  get  into  the 
program. " 

Well,  those  days  were  the  most  exciting  days  in 
many  years  of  my  life  and  I  still  remember  like 
yesterday  the  day  that  I  got  on  the  airplane.  It  was  a 
very  difficult  moment  because  I  was  very  happy  coming  to 
the  U.S.A  but  at  the  same  time  I  was  sad  because  I  was 
leaving  my  family  for  seven  months. 

Now  the  time  is  coming  to  an  end  and  I  have  almost 
the  same  feeling.  I  want  to  cut  my  body  in  two  pieces 
and  leave  one  here  and  send  the  other  one  home. 

Therefore,  I  can  tell  that  it  is  a  difficult 
moment . 


Gustavo  Vargas,  '87 

J;nr>rirn^ 

Wqgm  iajjpi*  lyi  ggffijgK 


A  Social  Worker's  Point  of  View 

As  you  sat  alone,  afraid,  shy,  and  hurt,  I  felt  it 
in  my  heart  to  be  your  friend,  a  friend  that  would 
protect  you,  show  you  some  fun  times  and  comfort  you  in 
a  time  of  sadness. 

I  felt  it  as  a  duty  to  stand  up  for  you,  fight  for 
your  rights  and  justify  your  actions.  And  as  time  went 
by,  I  saw  you  develop  into  a  wonderful  human  being.  And 
it  was  then  I  realized  I  had  accomplished  one  of  the 
greatest  tasks  in  the  world. 


Tammy  Damron,  '88 


Carrie  Whitney 


You're  a  Friend  to  Me 


I  feel  now  I  can  call  you  friend, 

And  now  see  why  it  had  to  end. 

I  understand  the  reasons  why 

Our  short  time  together  had  to  die. 

I  have  no  regrets,  I  have  no  pain 
Although  I  wish  it  could  be  the  same. 

I  think  we  may  get  another  shot, 

But  whether  we  do  or  not,  . 

I  will  remember  the  times  we  ve  spent, 
The  times  of  fun  and  embarrassment. 

I  hope  you  can  look  back  and  see 
Our  good  times,  like  they  used  to  be. 

I  hope  you  can  see  what  I  mean 

when  I  say  for  now,  you're  a  friend  to 


Connie  Moore,  '89 


Love  of  Lies 

If  there's  one  thing  you  said  that  stuck  in  my  mind, 

It  was  when  you  told  me  you  hated  lies. 

cQ  t  never  did  to  please  you* 

oSst  to  find  out  later  you  felt  you  must. 

in  the  beginning  I  was  open  with  you. 

I  told  you  I  knew  of  the  bad  that  you  do. 
you  said  that  you  did,  but  that  you  had  quit. 

I  thought  you  were  honest. 

From  then  on  we  were  finished. 

You  hid  it  from  me,  and  now  I  see 

Our  love  was  a  lie,  it  was  bound  to  die. 

I  wanted  you  back,  but  now  I  don  t. 

Live  with  your  lies,  for  now  I  won  t. 


Connie  Moore,  '89 


27 


Misty  Morning 


The  rising  sun  barely  filters  through  the  trees. 
Their  tall  branches  shadow  all  beneath  them.  Frost 
hardens  the  ground,  and  breaths  freeze  in  the  cold 
morning  air. 

Mist  surrounds  the  stream,  gurgling  merrily, 
laughing  at  the  cold  that  is  unable  to  freeze  it  as  it 
dashes  a  long.  A  fallen  tree  forms  a  bridge  across  the 
rushing  water,  but  icy  bark  covering  its  surface  renders 
it  impassable. 

The  trees  tower  upward,  higher  and  higher  until 
their  tops  disappear  in  the  valley  fog.  The  dirt  path 
doesn't  stir.  The  humid  air  bogs  it  down. 

People  stroll  through  the  forest  bundled  in  heavy 
layers  of  clothing.  Afraid  to  raise  their  voices,  they 
whisper  in  the  hushed  atmosphere  of  the  wild. 

Animals  are  preparing  for  hibernation. 

Occasionally  an  over-stuffed  squirrel  is  seen  tiredly 
scurrying  along.  The  first  really  cold  night  of  fall 
has  ended,  and  another  misty  morning  begins. 


Janeen  Heiman,  '90 


Do  you  realize  how  much  you've  helped  me  through? 
After  all  those  times,  do  you? 

Of  course,  you  didn't  know  I  was  (bummed). 

No  one  knew. 

A  lot  of  times,  I  didn't  know! 

Just  to  hear  your  voice  picked  me  up. 

I  would  call  feeling  great  and  you  brought  me  higher. 
You've  helped  me  so  much! 

To  see  your  smile  brought  me  happiness. 

When  I'm  happy  and  you're  happy,  I'm  happiest. 

We  smile,  laugh,  cheer  everyone  up. 

Even  with  the  worst,  we  try  to  be  best. 

And  you  brought  me  higher  than  anyone  could! 

Thanks ! 


Shellie  Littrel,  '88 


28 


Reading  Is . 

Reading  is  going  through  a  book 
for  secrets  you're  hoping  to  find. 

It's  adventure, 

horror , 

sadness , 

happiness , 

imagination  going  wild  in  your  mind. 

Reading  is  chapter  after  chapter 
of  excitement, 

shock , 

sorrow, 

laughter . 

So  look  in  a  book. 

You'll  surely  hook 

the  imagination  captured  inside. 


Jeff  Gates,  '88 


Alone 

The  walls  of  the  empty  family  house 
soaked  in  all  the  children's  voices  and  laughter. 

Now  it  soaks  in  your  inconsistent  breathing, 
and  the  the  tick  tock  of  the  antique  grandfather  clock. 

The  motionless  shadows  and  your  reminiscence  of  the 
children's  noise  haunts  you. 

You  sit  there  and  wonder  if  this  house  will  ever  be 
young  and  hold  a  child's  laugh  again. 


Kelli  Hoag,  '90 


29 


30 


Fragile  Wings 


Like  a  butterfly 
I  wish  to  be  free 
to  fly  alongside  you 

Yet  some  butterflies 
wish  to  be  caught 
not  pinned  in  a  book  for  all  to 
look  at  only  or  placed  in  a  glass 
cage  with  limited  freedom 
but  captured  in  spirit 
touched  on  the  wings  for  the  barest 
instant 

You  must'nt  grasp  tightly 
the  fragile  wings  and  body  might  be 
crushed  never  to  fly  on  trust  again 

Janeen  Heiman,  '90 


Free  Spirit 

The  dust  sticks  to  my  pants 

people  turn  and  whisper  as  I  walk  by 
Mothers  hide  their  children 

in  their  skirts  until  I  pass 
Rough  and  tough  men  glare 

stepping  aside  all  the  same 
I  flirt  with  death  walking  these  streets 
Unjust  hatred  but  hatred  still  is  the  cause 
I  need  to  get  away  from  accusing  faces 
Seeing  horses  tied  nearby 

I  leap  on  untying  as  I  spun  to  life 
Flipping  loose  dirt  from  under  her  feet 
we  fly  away  from  city  limits 
and  men's  problems 

Riding  all  night  we  rest  in  the  desert 
beneath  the  clear  starlit  sky 
I  plan  to  die  here 

horse  at  my  side 
away  from  human  pettiness 
My  bones  bleaching  in  the  sun 

after  the  scavengers  pick  them  clean 
My  spirit  free  with  the  wind  at  last 


Janeen  Heiman,  '90 


Tracey  McGinn,  '88 


Sea  Reflections 


Sunlit  dawn, 

Ripples  of  light, 

The  sun  gazes  down, 

On  this  beautiful  sight. 

Fisherman  in  the  harbor. 

The  cool  breeze  blows, 

Life  is  intrigued  by  this  glowing  sight, 

But  soon  will  be  covered  by  the  foggy  moonlight. 


Lesley  Hamilton,  '90 


One  of  my  favorite  things  to  do  is  play  soccer. 
Soccer  is  an  exciting  sport  because  it's  a  different 
sport  from  when  you're  watching  it  and  when  you  are 
playing  it.  Off  the  field  you  see  all  the  action  and 
roughness  that  is  going  on.  While  you're  playing 
soccer  you  don't  really  notice  all  the  action  and 
roughness,  but  it's  there.  While  on  the  field  you  play 
a  sequence  of  minutes  without  rest  and  you  become  tired 
quickly.  During  the  game  many  players  quip  at  you  to 
make  you  mad.  If  you  do  lose  your  temper  and  trip 
someone,  the  referee  will  have  to  arbitrate  the  call. 
Sometimes  the  goalie  receives  the  most  drastic 
punishment  by  taking  all  the  shots  on  goal.  I've  seen 
goalies  quiver  before  the  ball  was  shot  at  them. 
Whenever  a  goalie  and  another  player  get  tangled,  one 
^  always  comes  up  feeling  giddy.  Soccer  is  great  if  you 
know  how  to  play  right,  because  if  you  do  you  can  play 
rough  but  still  look  good. 


Chris  Nevenhoven,  '90 


33 


On  the  Pier 


Even  though  it's  summer,  the  cold  air  blowing  off 
the  ocean  penetrates  my  wool  sweater.  Strolling  along 
the  wooden  sidewalk,  my  new  snakeskin  shoes  make  a 
clip-clop  sound  that  warns  the  seagulls  I'm  too  close. 

Boats  on  the  bay  sound  their  fog  horns,  perpetually 
calling  and  answering  each  other. 

Noisy  vendors'  voices  reach  my  ears  as  they  tell  me 
of  their  marvelous  items.  The  pretzel  vendor  is  most 
enticing  to  me.  His  machine  makes  a  delightful  smell 
that  attracts  hungry  people  from  everywhere.  The 
doughy,  salty  pretzel  sticks  to  me  teeth  as  I  quickly 
devour  it. 

Seafood  shops  sell  their  fresh  cathes  of  putrid 
smelling  fish  that  taste  wonderful.  The  raw  fish  and 
clams  just  brought  in  from  the  sea  sit  arranged  in  clear 
glass  cases  for  all  to  look  at. 

I  head  to  the  edge  of  the  walk  and  lean  on  the 
railing.  The  hypnotizing  icy  gray  waves  that  crash 
against  the  pillars  supporting  the  boardwalk  hold  all  of 
my  attention  for  a  while. 

Suddenly,  a  person  piloting  a  bright  red  jet  ski 
pulls  me  out  of  my  trance.  Swerving  perilously  close  to 
boats,  he  dodges  in  and  out  of  waves  to  the  delight  of 
an  audience  by  the  railing.  As  he  roars  closer,  I 
observe  his  tight,  shiny  black  wet  suit  protecting  him 
from  the  cold  water.  His  dark  hair  stands  out  from  his 
head  in  spikes,  and  his  face  is  full  of  fun  from  his 
capers . 

People  on  the  pier  pause  to  watch  the  semi-death 
defying  stunts  he  performs  on  his  ski. 

Bouncing  as  the  waves  knock  him  about,  he  makes  a 
sharp  turn  seaward.  I  lose  sight  of  him  for  a  minute, 
but  then  he  reappears,  racing  back  again  at  high  speed. 
He  laughs  loudly  and  splashes  waves  that  just  miss  all 
of  us  on  the  pier  and  zooms  off  to  find  another  audience 
elsewhere . 

Moving  on  again,  I  notice  a  group  of  adults  seated 
on  a  cluster  of  weather-beaten  rocks.  They  have  a  hard 
time  enjoying  a  picnic  lunch  from  a  brown  wicker  basket, 
until  a  few  of  them  consent  and  share  with  the  pudgy 
birds  that  beg  on  the  outskirts. 

Further  along  the  water's  edge  more  vendors  pedal 
their  wares.  I  stop  to  examine  some  shining  golden 
jewelry  that  sparkles  when  I  try  it  on.  Another 
salesman  shows  me  his  multi-colored  sweatshirts  that 
advertise  Sausalito  in  all  its  glory.  I  leave  him 
explaining  to  a  teenage  girl  why  his  shirts  are  the  best 
in  town. 


continued 


continued 


Multitudes  of  birds  are  gathering  to<3dler 

tosses  r0Ckti^.atNoie«anUng  to'spoll  her  fun,  I  walk 

“"“l  group  of  children  —f^ash^ 

followed  by  their  father •  .T°”"?  *  niltute  or  two. 

yells  at  them  to  P^^/^round  a  Cornet,  I  see  before 
Laughing  at  them  as  on  a  rQck  to  get  a 

me  the  (golden  Gate  how  many  people  think 

better  view,  I  ponder  abou  f  ancj  how  many 

o the ^people^see^t0 a sC the*"  "Shining  Cathay  to  redo.- 
and  a  new  life.  ,  .  ^  u.a.r  it"s  too  crested 

with  fog!  li°'l  suddenl^ver^glad  som4  ingenious  person 
took  time  to  build  this  monument. 


"Being  a  Friend" 

The  ones  I  love,  the  t“"9S0^eJ(.d°;w 
Are  so  different  now,  like  old  to  ne  . 

The  kind  of  fun  we  used  to  have. 

Has  changed  so  much,  from  goo  Srong', 
They  understand  how  I  feel  it  e+.r;!no 

And  can't  understand  why  I  am  so  strong. 
It  hTts  me  to  see  them  do  these  things. 

I.  want  to  take  in  all  their  pain, 

To  give  my  advice,  and  be  here  for  them, 
Be  l  truefriend,  and  lend  a  hand 
Not  force  my  opinions,  only 
It  all  seems  like  the  smallest  task, 

For  what  I  get  in  return  for  it, 

Are  the  closest  friends  anyone  could  ask. 


Connie  Moore,  '89 


35 


36 


The  Mirror 


Something  that  sees  us 
Through  good  and  through  bad 
Sometimes  the  image  is  happy 
Though  sometimes  it  is  sad. 
It  changes  as  we  do 
Each  time  we  move 
Each  image  it  gives  us 
Has  something  to  prove. 

It  gives  us  a  picture 
Of  who  we  are 
It  shows  us  our  future 
But  not  very  far. 

Each  one  is  different 
The  images  we  see 
It  shows  me  a  picture 
Of  how  you  see  me. 

Each  look  we  steal  from  it 
Puts  on  a  new  face 
Each  time  we  look 
In  a  different  place. 


Jeni  Byer, 


I'm  sitting  here, 
by  the  phone,  waiting 
for  the  ring. 

Listening  to  the  radio, 
sad  songs  are  all  they  sing. 

If  we  could  have 
just  one  more  night  together, 

I  know  we  could 
make  it  last  forever. 

Just  remember 
if  you  change  your  mind. 

I  will  be  here  until 
the  end  of  time . 


'88 


Dawn  Burmeister,  '90 


Reflections  of  You 


As  I  look  out  to  the  sea 
I  reflect  on  the  memories  of  you  and  me. 

Infinitely  thinking  of  the  fun  we've  shared, 

I  stop  and  realize  how  much  I  once  cared. 

As  I  sit  listening  to  the  waves  crash  against  the  coral  reef, 
I  see  flashbacks  of  us  together,  but  only  for  a  brief. 

I'm  still  trying  and  trying  to  figure  out  what  went  wrong, 

But  it's  hard  to  concentrate  when  I  hear  our  special  song. 
Each  second  goes  on  and  I  find  it  hard  to  say 
That  I'm  still  the  same  person  day  after  day. 

But  for  now  I  must  go  on  and  try  to  forget 

How  much  my  feelings  for  you  are  now  nothing  meant. 


Denise  Hendrych,  '88 


Look  to  the  west. 

Look  to  the  east 
In  the  dust 

Smell  the  breath  of  hell. 
The  knife  is  sharp. 

The  blood  it  flows. 

The  King  is  dead, 

The  Queen  is  sick. 

The  world  is  old. 

The  country  new. 

The  people  die 
At  the  hands  of  hell. 
Dreams  they  shatter 
Broken  glass, 

Cut  your  hand. 

Tears  of  pain, 

Fear  of  life. 

But  in  the  end 
Always  darkness. 


Robert  McBride,  '87 


39 


John  Sailor,  '90 


Lonely  Children 


Think  of  all  the  lonely  children. 
The  world  to  them  is  filled 
With  misery. 

They  mean  no  harm. 

They  ask  for  no  food. 

They  ask  for  no  clothes. 

They  ask  for  nothing. 

Their  weary  eyes  are  dying. 

There  is  no  life  found  within  them. 
Think  of  all  the  lonely 
Children  in  the  world. 

Katherine  Main,  '88 


What  is  a  Friend? 

A  friend  is  someone  who  cares, 

Someone  to  count  on  when  things  are  bad. 
They're  there  when  you  need  them, 

Through  thick  and  thin. 

They  help  you  through  those  troubled  men. 

When  things  change  and  they  don't  care, 

It's  hard  to  hide  the  pain  you  bear. 

They've  abandoned  you  and  turned  their  backs. 
On  the  friendship  that  they  used  to  pack. 

I  want  it  how  it  used  to  be. 

The  sharing,  caring  given  to  me. 

So  friend,  dear  friend,  I  need  to  know, 

Why  you  want  to  let  it  go? 

Melissa  Grimes,  '87 


The  Writer 


Hands,  rough  and  dry 
I  pick  up  a  pen 
Again  I  start 

A  short  story  I  shall  write 


Katherine  Main,  '88 


Why  are  you,  you? 
Why  am  I,  me? 

Why  are  we.  Us? 

We  are  one. 

Yet  we  are  two. 
But  who  is  who? 
How  come  I  care? 
You  let  me. 

Why  do  you  care? 

I  don't  know. 

What  will  I  do 
without  you? 
What  will  you  do 
without  me? 

I  don't  know. 

Tell  me. 

I'd  like  to  know. 
Please  tell  me. 

I  love  you! 

Too  much. . . . 

So  much, 

I  do. 


Shellie  Littrel,  '88 


My  Dying  Friend 

Why  are  you  dying? 

I  do  not  know. 

Do  you  hurt,  my  friend? 

Yes,  I  hurt. 

Are  you  afraid? 

Yes,  I'm  very  afraid. 

I  am  sad. 

Do  not  be  sad. 

Before  you  go  I  want  to  tell  you 
That  I  love  you. 

I  love  you  too.  Now  I  must  go. 

He  turns  away. 

Goodbye,  my  friend. 


Katherine  Main,  '88 


42 


The  Dream 


Bestina  was  so  lonely. 

Misunderstood  was  she, 

But  determined. 

She  was  a  strong  girl. 

Bestina  would  not  follow,  but  lead. 

Life  for  her  was  not  something  precious; 
It  was  dark  and  sad. 

Pain  was  set  deeply  in  her  wounds. 

Tears  salted  -  streamed  down 
Her  soft  pink  skin. 

She  sat  in  a  dark,  warm  room  -  crying, 

Because  she  feared 

Reality. 


Katherine  Main,  '88 


You  and  I 

Fate  brought  us  together,  that  I  can  see. 

You  and  I  together,  our  destiny. 

Two  different  people,  yet  so  much  alike. 

We  share  the  good  times  and  bad 
That  come  up  in  life. 

Life  seems  to  be  a  merry-go-round, 

Yet  we  stick  together,  side  by  side. 

Knowing  that  we  will  be  there  for  each  other 
For  the  rest  of  time. 


Becky  Herrington,  '88 


43 


Carrie  Whitney, 


88 


Nature 


Nature's  creeping  through  me, 
animals,  flowers  and  trees. 

They  all  are  standing  by  me 
in  the  deep  dark  forest. 

They  keep  their  posted  eyes 
on  me  for  they  fear  me 
in  their  land, 

Since  they'll  always, 
always  know, 

Where  the  human  race  will  stand. 


Tammy  Damron,  '88 


I  look  at  you  through  the  corner 
of  my  eye. 

I  love  you  so  much  I  can't  say 
goodbye . 

You  tell  me  you  love  me 
but  then  you  don't. 

Is  it  you  can't  or  that  you 
won' t? 


Karen  Brotherton,  '88 


I  lay  out  watching  the  wind  rake 
the  leaves  and  dump  them  in 
The  neighbor's  yard.  I  read  my 

book,  whipping  through  the  pages. 
I  see  it  cutting  off  the  dead  limb 
on  the  oak  tree  and 
I  hear  it  whistling  at  me. 


Kelli  Hoag,  '90 


Steve  Madden, 


Standing  In  The  Dark  of  Night 

The  night  is  calm,  no  trees  are  moving  in  the  wind. 

I  stand  here  alone  in  my  dress,  waiting  for  you. 

I  find  it  very  fascinating  to  watch  the  clouds 
moving  away  from  the  moon. 

The  moonlit  sky  shines  down  on  me.  The  snow  just 
turned  into  a  million  diamonds,  glistening  in  the  light. 

The  moon  fades  and  the  diamonds  are  gone. 

A  breeze  passes  by. 

I  can  feel  my  hair  move  and  my  dress  sweep  across 
my  legs. 

I  look  down  at  my  watch  and  my  eyes  search  through 
the  darkness,  looking  for  you  again.  Tick,  tick,  time 
is  passing  away.  It's  almost  time  for  the  sun  to  rise 
above  the  horizon. 

I  close  my  eyes  feeling  in  my  heart  the  fear  that 
you  won't  show  and  we  will  never  be  together  again. 

Then  I  hear  the  snow  crackling  in  the  distance. 

My  eyes  fly  open  and  my  heart  is  beating  fast. 

Is  it  really  you? 

You,  the  man  I  love,  coming  back  for  me? 

I  can  see  your  smile  and  your  arms  reaching  out  for 

me . 

The  stars  are  fading  and  the  sun  is  coming  upl 

I  take  your  hand  and  you  put  your  arms  around  me. 
They  are  so  warm  and  feel  so  safe. 

Our  lips  touch  gently  and  I  hope  this  feeling  lasts 
forever. 

Are  we  really  back  together? 

You  take  my  hand  and  we  walk  through  the  snow,  hand 
in  hand,  over  the  horizon. 

Dawn  is  here,  the  colors  shadow  your  face. 

I  wake  upl  You're  gone!  Was  it  just  a  dream? 

My  heart  feels  broken.  Then  I  look  down  at  my 
hand,  and  your  ring  is  back  on  my  finger. 

I  know  it  will  stay  this  time . forever. 


Dawn  Burmeister,  '90 


47 


48 


I  hunt  pheasants. 

I  have  always  hunted  pheasants. 

Some  I  get,  some  get  away. 

As  I  stalk  through  the  bushes, 

I  watch  the  dogs,  the  sky, 

And  the  bushes  themselves. 

At  times  I  watch  them  fly  from  the  bushes 
Like  an  executioner. 

I  feel  I  am  a  good  hunter. 

And  I  realize  being  a  good  hunter 
Means  bagging  whatever  the  season  offers. 
And  then  begin  again  into  the  new  season. 
Not  forgetting  any  lesson  learned 
And  knowing  that  a  new  season 
Is  just  a  chance  to  begin  again. 

I  am  a  hunter,  not  unlike  my  father. 

I  hunt  pheasants. 

Some  I  get,  some  get  away. 


Deon  Smith,  '88 


Mountain  Man 

A  rough  cabin  in  the  woods 
Housing  a  rough,  rawboned  man, 
Brushing  shoulders  only  with  men 
Such  as  himself, 

Alone  on  his  mountain  top, 

Surviving . . . 

Mountain  Man 

Nikki  Carr,  '89 


49 


Connie  Moore,  '89 


The  Cows 


Hear  the  moos  from  the  cows  - 
Big  Cows! 

Eating  grass  and  roaming  fields, 
How  they  moo,  moo,  moo, 

In  the  noonday  sun! 

While  the  farmers  overlook 
All  the  cows  in  the  brook, 

The  farmers  chatter  with  delight. 
Keeping  time,  time,  time, 

In  a  sort  of  mooing  rhyme, 

To  the  sounding  of  the  hoofs 
From  the  cows,  cows,  cows,  cows 
Cows,  cows,  cows  - 
From  the  running  and  mooing  of 
The  cows. 


Tricia  Sebolt,  '88 


The  Sunrise 

As  the  rising  sun  forces  me  out  of 

bed, 

I  look  out  my  window  to  see 

brilliant  colors. 

Then  a  ball  of  light  appears. 

I  am  now  awake  and  aware  of  the  beautiful 
morning. 

The  light  creeps  upward,  and  fills  my 
room, 

And  the  last  star  gets  lost  in  the 
light . 

I  take  one  more  look  out  my  window, 
and  I  see  the  birds  and  rabbits 

looking,  ,  . 

Looking  toward  the  east,  watching  a 

new  day  appear  out  of  nowhere. 


Kelli  Hoag,  '90 


VISITOR  <£«»  HOME 


(Morvoteus  MaScfrMs 

■s.v.t:jv. " ..  v- -  "V  *  """SH 


'^&0£p. 

mpM 


Angie  Mason, 


Feelings  of  State  Bound  Lady  Lancer  Fans.. 

Only  one  more  game 
before  we're  state  bound, 

I  think  the  SPIRIT  is 
spreading  around. 

The  resounding  buzzer 
fills  the  gym  with  sound 
as  the  Lady  Lancer  Fans 
COULD  be  state  bound. 

The  buzzer  signaled 
for  the  game  to  begin. 

We've  just  gotta'  get 
that  one  special  win! 

Jenny,  Tracy,  Jamie, 

Melissa  and  Pam, 

all  thinking ...  I ' m  starting, 

I'm  the  best,  yes  I  am. 

The  game  started  out  slow, 
but  picked  up  its  pace. 

Coaches  Menke  and  Denner 
had  smiles  on  their  faces. 

Then  it  was  halftime, 
the  crowd  felt  real  good. 

As  far  as  state  goes, 

I  think  we  COULD. 

We  were  ready  to  put  this 
game  far  behind, 
when  the  mere  thought  of  state 
ran  through  our  mind. 

They  scored,  then  we  scored 
with  not  long  to  go. 

Tonight's  game  has  been  a 
Spectacular  show! ! 

The  timer  hit  ZERO  - 
We  rose  to  our  feet, 
as  one  more  team  must 
face  Lancer  defeat. 

The  resounding  buzzer 
filled  the  gym  with  sound, 
as  we  Lady  Lancer  Fans.... 

ARE  STATE  BOUND!!!! 


Angie  Case,  '90 


53 


Darin  Smith,  '88 


Finally  You  Know 


The  hurt  it  never  leaves  the  mind, 
when  you  love  someone  and  then  it  dies. 

It  stays  for  keeps  within  the  soul. 

It  never  disappears,  it  just  grows  old. 

The  way  I  feel,  my  feelings  for  you, 

I  was  scared  at  the  thought  that  they  had  grew. 
Not  knowing  the  answer  or  what  to  do, 

I  let  you  go,  you  never  knew 
the  way  I  felt  inside  for  real. 

You  finally  know  jyist  how  I  feel. 

The  secret  is  ours,  between  just  us, 
of  how  I  can  say  that  I  love  you  best.... 


Connie  Moore,  '89 


Late  at  night,  can't  sleep 
Sitting  here,  writing 
I  don't  want  to, 

I  have  to  sleep 
I  can't. 

Thinking  hard 
About  different  things 
Different  people 
From  all  over 
I  can't  sleep 

I  wish  my  brain  would  shut  off 

I  don't  want  to  think 

I  need  sleep 

Anywhere,  but  here 

That's  where  I  want  to  be 

I've  been  all  over 

Not  quite,  but  I  will 

So,  I'm  still  here  for  now. 

I  wish  I  could  sleep 

How  can  I  love  so  many  people 

All  at  the  same  time? 

I'd  like  to  see  them  now 
So,  why  can't  I  sleep? 

I  just  can't. 


Shellie  Littrel,  '88 


Trapped  inside  another  person's  body,  there  was  no 
way  for  Caroline  to  escape.  A  smile  grew  long  and  wide 
as  she  sat  in  the  pouring  rain  and  watched  it  fall  upon 
the  streets.  She  laughed  and  laughed  until  he  started 
to  cry  and  scream  with  rage. 

"Caroline,  Caroline,"  screamed  the  women  in 
white.  "Caroline  get  up,  you  will  get  sick  sitting  in 
the  rain!"  She  grabbed  Caroline  by  the  forearm  and 
dragged  her  towards  the  dull,  faceless  house. 

Caroline  began  to  yelp  as  if  it  were  a  game. 

"Rain,  rain,  rain,"  she  sang.  She  started  to  twist  and 
turn  knowing  that  the  game  was  over,  pretending  became 
reality. 

Caroline  was  dragged  into  the  house  wet  and 
unruffled.  Then  she  fell  to  the  ground  sobbing. 

"Quit  acting  like  a  baby,  Caroline,  get  up,"  the 
women  in  white  raved. 

All  the  other  children  gathered  around,  some 
quivering,  some  screeching,  some  boasting  on  and  on 
about  nothing. 

Soon  other  older  people  came  into  the  room,  all 
with  great  authority. 

"It  looks  like  Caroline  needs  a  little  medicine," 
one  said. 

"We'll  have  to  carry  her  to  the  sleeping  chamber," 
another  remarked. 

Caroline  began  to  squirm  even  more,  grasping  and 
reaching  for  anything  or  anyone.  She  was  so  helpless, 
so  dumb.  She  knew  in  this  life  she  couldn't  control  her 
thoughts  or  her  body. 

Several  older  people  grabbed  her  by  her  wrists  and 
ankles.  They  quickly  dragged  her  down  a  long,  dimly  lit 
hallway,  until  they  came  to  a  white  square  room  with  one 
window. 

They  tossed  Caroline  on  to  the  bed  and  strapped  her 
down  leaving  her  helpless.  Shining  a  light  upon  her 
face,  they  gathered  around  and  began  their  work. 

Long,  wet  tears  streamed  down  Caroline's  face,  for 
she  knew  she  was  weak. 

Caroline  kept  thinking  of  the  rain.  "So  light  and 
colorful,  pretty  colors.  Rain  makes  me  so  happy,"  she 
thought  to  herself.  Her  eyes  remained  looking  out  the 
window.  She  thought  about  the  rain  again.  "I  want  to 
be  rain,  I  want  to  be  beautiful  and  happy." 

Her  eyes  grew  heavy.  They  closed  tightly. 

There  she  laid  in  the  white,  square  room,  nothing 
of  her  own  but  the  rain  falling  from  the  sky,  splashing 
against  the  window. 


Katherine  Main,  '88 


58 


Diez  Dias 


en  Mexico  -  Primera  parte  -  Oaxaca 


Mexico,  Mexico,  rah  rah  rahl  Este  verano  pasado 
viente  y  seis  estudiantes  con  sus  profesoras  y  sus 
famililias  fueron  a  Mexico  por  diez  dias.  Fueron  diez 
dias  diverticion  para  todos. 

Primero,  el  grupo  visijto  la  ciudad  de  Oaxaca  por 
cuatro  dias.  Una  tarde  habi  amos  viajado  por  diversion 
por  siete  horas.^,  Estaba  muy  cansada  cuando  terminamos. 

Mientra  estabamos  en  Oaxaca,  encontre  a  dos  chicas 
simpaticas.  Se  llaman  Gloria  y  Claudia.  A  nosotro^,  nos 
irjvitaron  a  su  graduacion  y  a  la  fiesta  de  graduacion  el 
sabado.  Pero  nuestro  grupo  tuvo  que  salir  la  proxima 
mariana.  Angela,  Kristina,  y  yo  estabamos  enojadas. 
Queriamos  ir  muchisimo. 

En  Oaxaca,  Angela,  Kristina,  y  yo  compartimos  una 
habitacion.  La  cama  estaba  en  cemento.  No  era  muy 
agradable,  pero  ^obrevivimos .  Al  principio  lo  que 
parecia  cuatro  dias  largos,  se  pasaban  pronto.  Habiamos 
divertido  mucho  en  Oaxaca. 


Ten  Days  in  Mexico  -  Part  One 


Oaxaca 


Mexico,  Mexico,  rah  rah  rah!  This  past  summer, 
twenty-six  students  with  their  teachers  and  their 
families  went  to  Mexico  for  ten  days. 

First,  the  group  visited  the  city  of  Oaxaca  for 
four  days.  One  afternoon  we  toured  the  town  for  seven 
hours.  I  was  very  tired  when  we  were  finished. 

While  we  were  in  Oaxaca,  I  met  two  very  nice  girls. 
Their  names  were  Gloria  and  Claudia.  They  invited  us  to 
their  graduation  and  their  graduation  party  on  Saturday, 
but  our  group  had  to  leave  that  morning.  Angie, 

,,  Kristina,  and  I  were  mad.  We  wanted  to  go  very  much. 

In  Oaxaca,  Angie,  Kristina,  and  I  shared  a  room. 

The  mattress  was  on  cement.  We  weren't  happy  about  it, 
but  we  survived.  What  had  seemed  like  it  was  going  to 
be  four  long  days  passed  quickly.  We  had  a  great  time 
in  Oaxaca. 


Michelle  Petersen,  '87 


59 


Ten  Days  in  Mexico  -  Part  2  -  Mexico  City 


Mexico  City  is  a  huge  city.  You  are  able  to  see  the 
effects  of  the  earthquake  but  there  weren't  many  places  that  I 
saw  that  were  destroyed. 

Our  guide's  name  was  Helia.  She  was  a  great  guide.  She 
told  us  about  the  hummingbird.  If  a  person  gives  you  one,  and 
you  are  a  girl,  boys  will  flock  toward  you.  If  you  are  a  boy, 
the  girls  will  come  to  you.  The  hummingbird  must  be  dead  and 
wrapped  in  red.  I  want  one  I 

We  were  in  Mexico  during  the  World  Cup  (soccer).  We  met 
two  guys  from  Germany.  Their  names  were  Rolf  (Boris)  and 
Michael.  They  were  both  good-looking  and  party  animals.  They 
invited  us  to  a  party  for  the  Germans.  It  was  fun. 

We  didn't  party  all  the  time  while  we  were  in  Mexico 
City.  We  went  to  only  one.  We  saw  the  National  Cathedral. 

It  is  a  beautiful  church  full  of  gold.  I  can't  describe  it. 

We  visited  the  pyramids  of  the  moon  and  of  the  sun. 

Angie  and  I  climbed  to  the  top  of  each  one!  While  we  were 
climbing  the  pyramid  of  the  sun,  it  started  to  rain.  We  were 
very  cold. 

We  also  saw  the  Shrine  of  Guadalupe.  It  was  beautiful 
and  incredible.  The  people  have  a  lot  of  faith. 

Our  group  had  a  lot  of  fun  in  Mexico  City. 


Diez  Dias  en  Mexico  -  La  Segunda  -  La  Ciudad  de  Mexico 

La  ciudad  de  Mexico  es  una  ciudad  muy  grande.  Puede  ver 
los  efectos  del  terremoto  pero  no  hay  muchos  lugares  que  yo  vi 
que  se  destruyeron. 

Nuestra  guia  se  llama  Helia.  Ella  era  muy  buena.  Ella 
nos  dijo  del  parajito  de  hum.  Si  una  persona  se  lo  da  a  Ud. 
y  Ud  es  una  chica,  chicos  vendran  a  Uid.  Si  es  Ud  un  chico, 
las  chicas  vendran  a  Ud.  El  parajito  (Tiene  que  estar)  muerto 
y  es  rojo.  iQuiero  uno! 

Estabamos  en  la  ciudad  de  Mexico  durante  La  Copa  Mundial. 
Conocimos  a  dos  hombres  de  Alemania.  Se  llaman  Rolf  (Boris)  y 
Michael.  Eran  muy  guapos  y  cran  animales  de  fiesta.  Nos 
invitaron  a  nosotros  a  la  fiesta  para  los  alemanes.  Era  muy 
divertida. 

No  fuimos,  a  fiestas  todo  el  tiempo  mientras  estabamos  en 
la  ciudad  de  Mexico.  Fuimos  a  solamente  una.  Vimos  la 
Catedral  Nacional.  Era  una  iglesia  muy  bonita  con  mucho  oro. 
No  la  puedo  describir. 

Visitamos  las  piramides  de  la  luna  y  del  sol.  Angela  Y 
yo  subimos  al  cumbre  de^cada  una!  Cuando,  estabamos  subp.endo  la 
piramide  del  sol,  empezo  a  Hover.  Teniamos  mucho  frio. 

Vimos  tambien  el  santuario  de  Guadalupe.  Era  muy  bonita 
e  incredible.  La  gente  tiene,  mucha  fe.  ^ 

Nuestro  grupo  se  divirtio  en  la  ciudad  de  Mexico. 


Michelle  Petersen.  '87 


Ten  Days 


in  Mexico  -  Part  Three 


Acapulco 


From  Mexico  City,  our  group  left  for  Acapulco. 
Acapulco  is  to  the  south  of  Mexico  City.  By  plane  it  is 
forty  minutes  from  Mexico  City.  It  is  not  a  long  trip. 

Acapulco  is  a  very  beautiful  city.  The  water  in 
the  ocean  is  blue-green.  Our  hotel  was  on  the  beach. 

The  name  of  our  hotel  was  the  Copacabana.  It  was  a 
large  hotel  and  it  had  air-conditioning.  Our  hotel  in 
Oaxaca  didn't  have  air-conditioning. 

While  we  were  in  Acapulco,  Angie,  Kristina,  and  I 
went  "parasailing" .  It  was  a  lot  of  fun,  but  we  didn't 
have  our  contact  lenses  in  our  eyes.  We  couldn't  see! 
Angie  almost  landed  on  a  bamboo  hut.  We  laughed! 

Angie,  Kris,  and  I  went  on  a  glass  bottom  boat.  It 
was  neat  and  we  saw  a  lot  of  tropical  fish.  We  also  saw 
a  statue  of  Guadalupe.  I  want  to  see  it  again. 

That  night ,  part  of  our  group  went  to  a  restaurant 
that  had  animals  -  like  birds  and  a  lion  cub.  The  food 
was  good  and  our  waiter  thought  that  he  was  very  funny. 
He  stole  Angie's  shoes.  She  wasn't  able  to  leave 
because  she  didn't  have  her  shoes.  We  had  a  lot  of  fun. 

Acapulco  is  very  beautiful,  and  I  want  to  go  again. 


Diez  Dias  en  Mexico  -  La  Tercera  Parte 


Acapulco 


De  la  ciudad  de  Mexico  nuestro  grupo  salio  para 
Acapulco.  Acapulco  estaal  sur  de  la  ciudad  de  Mexico. 
Por  avion  esta  cuarenta  minutos  de  la  ciuded  de  Mexico. 
No  era  an  viaje  largo. 

Acapulco  es  una  ciudad  muy  bonita.  El  aqua 
del  oceano  es  azul-verde.  Nuestro  hotel  estaba  en  la 
playa.  El  nombre  del  hotel  era  Copacabana.  Era  uri 
hotel  grande  y  tenia  aire  acondicionado.  El  hotel  en 
^Oaxaca  no  lo  tenia. 

Mientras  estabamos  en  Acapulco,  Angela,  Kristina,  y 
yo  fuimos  "parasailing".  Era  muy  divertido,  pero  no 
temamos  nuestros  contactos  de  ojos  en  nuestros  ojos. 

No  veiamos!  iAngela  casi  llego  en  una  Choza  de  bambu! 
Estabamos  riendo. 

Angela,  Kristina,  y  yo  fuimos  en  una  bote  con  un 
base  de  virdrio.  Estaba  muy  bonito  y  vimos  muchos  peces 
tropicales.  Vimos  una  estatua  de  Guadalupe.  Quiero 
ver  la  de  nuevo . 

Esa  noche,  una  parte  de  nuestro  grupo  fue  a  un 
restaurante  con  animales  -  como  parajitos  y  un  leonito. 
La  comida  estaba  buena  y  nuestro  camarero  penso  que 
estaba  divirtdo.  Robo  los  zapatos  de  Angela.  Ella  no 
podia  salir  porque  no  tuvo  sus  zapatos.  Nos  divertimos 
mucho . 

Acapulco  es  muy  bonito  y  quiero  ir  de  nuevo. 


Michelle  Petersen,  '87 


mgmmm 

mm 


Tracy  Damron 


Sometimes  I'll  be  alone  at  night, 
and  an  image  flashes  across  my  mind 
of  you, 

I'll  wonder 
where  you  are, 
and  how  you've  been. 

I'll  wonder 
if  you  remember 

the  time  we  sat  near  the  fountain 
snared  our  dreams 


and 


and 


and 


or  the  time 

we  kissed 

lying  on  the  grass  under  the 
And  a  tear  forms  in  my  eye 

_ , i ,  f  smile  upon  the  memories. 
11  feel  it  slide  down  my  cheek 
and  drop  from  my  chin 
and  that's  when  I  sigh 

and  hope  you  felt  it  too. 


trees . 


Chris  Noel,  '87 


Me  is  brown, 
Brown  is  me. 
Is  me  brown? 
Brown  me  is. 
Is  brown  me? 
Me  brown  is. 


David  Schneider,  '87 
David  Martel,  '87 


63 


She  stood,  looking  out  her  window,  expecting  to  see 
the  setting  sun.  Instead  her  attention  was  drawn  to 
the  park  across  her  house.  She  couldn't  believe  her 
eyes;  she  saw  the  whole  incident. 

She  rushed  downstairs  to  get  a  closer  look  at  what 
was  happening.  By  the  time  she  reached  the  front  door, 
the  man  was  running  to  a  car  parked  right  in  front  of 
her.  He  looked  up  and  saw  her,  he  hesitated,  got  m  the 
car  and  raced  off.  She  was  petrified.  His  stare  had 
seemed  to  pierce  her;  she  felt  as  though  she  were 

paralyzed .  ...... 

It  took  her  a  while  before  she  noticed  the  small 
figure  in  the  park.  She  slowly  crossed  the  street  and 
bent  down.  Turning  the  figure  over,  she  saw  it  was  a 
little  girl  who  couldn't  have  been  older  than  ten. 

She  picked  up  the  limp  little  body  and  carried  it 
into  her  house.  She  telephoned  the  police.  She  was 
asked  her  name  and  address,  and  in  minutes  two  policemen 
were  at  the  front  door  of  Kate  Jones. 

One  officer  attended  the  little  girl  while  the 
other  proceeded  to  ask  Kate  questions,  questions  that 
she  was  afraid  to  answer.  It  wasn't  the  questions  that 
scared  her;  it  was  the  look  in  that  man's  eyes  burning 
through  her  when  she  was  forced  to  remember  what  she  had 

seen. 

The  little  girl  had  been  beaten  up,  but  turned  out 
to  be  all  right.  She  couldn't  identify  the  man  who  had 
injured  her,  so  Kate  became  a  major  part  in  the 

apprehension.  ,  .  . 

She  gave  a  description  and  from  that  a  sketch  was 
drawn.  It  took  a  while  for  the  police  to  round  up  some 
suspects,  but  when  they  had,  Kate  was  called  to  come  and 
■  •  ■  man.  It  took  all  the  courage  she  had 
the  police  station.  She  wasn't  quite 
him  to  be  there  or  not.  If  he  was, 
so  he  couldn't  ever  hurt  anyone  again; 


identify  the  right 
just  to  go  down  to 
sure  if  she  wanted 
she  could  make  it 


and  yet,  she  would  also  have  to  see  his  eyes  again 


Sharron  Wood,  '87 


65 


1 


Red  is  the  fiery  blunder  of  the  earth; 
Red  is  evil  and  your  sinful  ways. 

Green  is  frogs  and  dogs  and  lima  beans; 
Green  is  forever  and  always. 

Blue  brightens  each  and  every  day; 
Purple  dominates  my  ways. 

Feelings  are  expressed  by  colors; 

Life  couldn't  exist  without  color. 


Andrea  Christopher,  88 


67 


Carrie  Whitney, 


88 


To  dance 
Is  my  life. 

To  love 
Is  my  life. 

If  dance  and  love  could  become  one. 
The  result  would  be  you. 

If  life  consisted  of  you  holding  me. 
In  your  arms  as  we  dance 
To  soft,  magical  music, 

I  would  be  sweetly  satisfied; 

For  you  are  the  music  of  my  dance. 
You  are  the  love  life  my  heart. 

You  are  my  life. 


Karen  Carstensen,  '87 


Is  there  anything  left  when  trust  is  gone? 

I  think  not. 

Relationships  must  have  trust  to  last. 

You  may  think  your  love  is  enough  to  last 
a  lifetime, 

But  without  trust,  how  can  you  go  on? 

If  you  have  no  trust,  fights  are  easier, 
accusations  become  harsh. 

Suddenly,  you're  no  longer  getting  along. 

Life  with  each  other  becomes 
harder  and  harder, 

Eventually  leaving  you  confused 
and  worn  out  inside. 

Sooner  or  later  you'll  realize 

There's  nothing  left . 

It  didn't  last . 

It  never  does . 


Cathy  Hoeppner,  '87 


69 


The  Sea 


A  seagull's  cry, 

A  breeze's  sigh, 

The  warm,  grainy  sand 

Sifts  through  my  hand. 

The  salty  tang  spices  the  air 
As  the  waves  crawl  up 
In  a  playful  dare, 

Their  foamy  bodies  roll 
Up  and  back,  rise  then  fall, 

With  a  continuous  smack. 

Now  the  pink  sun  sets  into  the  sea. 

And  so  ends  this  poem  and  the 
Day  for  me. 


Beth  Ketelaar,  '90 


Winter  Meadow 

The  snow  covers  the  ground  like  a  white  eiderdown 
quilt.  Snowflakes  fall  like  fragile  butterflies  to  the 
bare,  brown  branches  jutting  from  the  tree  trunks  like 
bony  fingers  from  a  skinny  hand.  The  silence  is  a  calm 
pool  where  only  an  occasional  bird  call  causes  a  ripple. 
The  air  is  still  and  cool,  its  calmness  washing  over  the 
deserted  meadow  as  waves  lap  at  the  seashore.  Can 
anything  break  the  devastating  calm? 

A  bounding  white  ball  of  fur  in  the  guise  of  a 
rabbit  is  my  answer.  The  skittish  creature  stops, 
sensing  my  enthusiastic  curiosity,  its  fragile  pink  nose 
twitching  as  if  surveying  any  danger.  Satisfied  of  its 
safety,  it  continues  on  its  journey,  forgetting  about  an 
encounter  with  a  human. 

The  pool  of  silence  is  still  once  more.  The  gentle 
calm  of  winter  sleep  falls  again  over  the  peaceful 
meadow,  a  magical  wonderland  that  remains  untouched  by 
the  hustle  and  bustle  of  civilization. 


Tracy  Kirby,  '90 


71 


Jeff  Lassiter,  '90 


Suicide 


He  promised  he  would  still  love  me, 
when  I  woke  he  was  gone. 

I'll  fix  things. 

To  my  family,  I  am  simply  a  failure, 

they  are  filled  with  disappointment. 
I'll  fix  things. 

They  tell  me  to  quit  drinking, 

I  know  the  damage  is  already  done. 
I'll  fix  things,  once  and  for  all. 
Slowly  I  raise  the  gun  to  my  temple, 

I  squeeze  the  trigger  ever  so  gently... 
Things  are  fixed. 


Celeste  Lorenz, 


So  many  times 
I've  looked  at  you 
And  wanted  to 
Say  that  I  cared. 

The  words  just  won't 
Be  loud  enough 
Although  they 
Should  be  shared. 

My  mind  is  filled 
With  thoughts  of  you. 

Someday  I  hope  my 
Dreams  will  come  true. 

Us,  together 
Never  to  part, 

Because  if  we  did 
It  would  break  my  heart. 

I  know  that  there  is  happiness 
Wherever  there  is  joy. 

Why  can't  I  find  happiness 
Or  even  just  a  boy? 

He  doesn't  have  to  be  gorgeous 
Or  even  all  that  smart 
Just  a  boy  to  call  my  own 
For  me  would  be  a  start. 


'88 


Jeni  Byer,  '88 


■ 


Laurie  Schroeder,  '90 


74 


Reflections  On  An  October  Day 


Walking  home  one  October  day,  late  after  school,  I 
observed  a  group  of  children  playing  in  their  yard. 

They  had  formed  a  huge  pile  of  autumn  leaves  under  the 
swingset.  I  looked  on  with  a  smile  as  they  climbed  to 
the  top  of  the  swingset,  jumped  off,  and  landed  in  the 
pile  of  leaves,  screaming  and  laughing.  As  I  passed 
them,  I  waved  and  remembered  my  days  as  a  young  child. 

Those  were  days  spent  learning  how  to  ride  a  bike 
and  coloring  with  fat  crayons.  Girls  wore  tennis  shoes 
with  a  skirt  and  nobody  thought  it  looked  silly.  We  had 
parties  at  school  on  holidays  and  wrote  letters  to 
Santa.  We  wore  pajamas  with  feet  in  them  and  slept  with 
the  closet  light  on.  Those  were  days  of  bathroom 
breaks,  peanut  butter  and  jelly  sandwiches,  and  learning 
how  to  whistle.  We  said  the  Pledge  of  Allegiance 
everyday  and  had  show-and-tell  once  a  week.  Things  were 
so  simple.  And  then  we  grew  up. 

Suddenly  things  weren't  so  simple.  We  found  out 
about  terrible  things  like  algebra  and  part-time  jobs. 

We  entered  the  complex  world  of  salaries,  taxes,  bills, 
loans,  and  financial  aid.  Things  like  relationships  and 
peer  pressure  played  with  our  emotions  and  self  esteem. 
Life  was  further  complicated  with  speed  limits,  college 
applications,  and  detentions.  Things  weren't  so  simple 
anymore . 

As  I  walked  on  my  way  I  thought  to  myself,  "Kids 
are  lucky."  Later  I  realized  that  kids  are  smart,  too, 
because  they  find  so  much  joy  in  the  simplest  things  and 
look  toward  the  world  with  innocence  and  trust. 


Christine  Noel,  '87 


The  Sunny  Afternoon 

Sitting  in  class, 
looking  out  the  window, 

I  can  see 

the  sun  shining  through. 
I  thought  to  myself, 
what  a  long  afternoon. 


Katherine  Main,  '88 


Love,  Freedom,  Happiness 

Love  is  caring,  sharing, 

A  relationship  with  two  or  many. 

Freedom  is  somewhere  else,  distant, 
Far  away,  independent,  by  yourself. 

Happiness  is  joyful,  great. 

Blooming  with  spring,  bright  colors. 


Tammy  Damron,  '88 


First  Love 

Why  is  it  confusing, 

this  feeling  that  I  have? 

Sometimes  I  feel  so  happy; 

other  times  I  feel  so  sad. 

My  heart  is  like  a  roller  coaster, 
going  round  and  round. 

Oh,  why  can't  I  control  it, 
or  maybe  calm  it  down? 

My  life  was  so  much  easier 
before  I  fell  in  love. 

But  now  all  these  emotions 

please  help,  oh  God  above. 


Teresa  Longlett,  '89 


76 


La  Vida 


La  vida  es  diferente, 
es  dificil  de  entender, 
es  imprevisible , 
y  es  confundida. 


La  vida  esta  emocionante, 
esta  divertida, 
esta  remuneradora , 
y  esta  confundida. 

La  Vida, 

es  buena,  o  mala? 
vale  la  pena  vivir  o  no 
es  confundida? 

Pues  es  la  vida,  de  veras  tan  mala  como  parece? 


Life 

Life  is  different, 
it's  hard  to  understand, 
it's  unpredictable, 
and  it's  confusing. 

Life  is  exciting, 
it's  fun, 
it's  rewarding, 
and  it's  confusing. 

Life , 

is  it  good, 

or  bad? 

Is  it  worth  living  or  not? 

Is  it  confusing? 

Well  is  life,  really  as  bad  as  it  seems? 


Kristina  Johnson,  '87 


77 


Jason  Ploog,  '90 


78 


At  The  Seashore 


in  the  late  afternoon  sunshine,  a  small  child  runs 
toward  the  ocean.  Yelling  for  her  mother  to  hurry  up, 
the  child  drops  her  blue  plastic  bucket  and  red  shovel. 
Eagerly  she  wades  into  the  freezing  cold  water.  Her 
golden  curls  frame  her  rosy  cheeks  and  crystal  blue 
eyes.  Her  faded,  red  bathing  suit  shows  many  days  at 

the  beach.  . 

Piercing  the  air  with  a  high  pitched  screech,  a 
hungry  seagull  hovers  near  the  child.  The  rumble  of  the 
ocean  waves  echos  throughout  the  beach. 

The  child  runs  out  of  the  water,  leaving  small 
footsteps  soon  erased  by  the  ocean  waves.  She  wanders 
over  to  a  group  of  wild  flowers.  Their  sweet  smells 
filter  the  air.  She  picks  a  few  for  her  mother. 

The  sound  of  the  ocean  lures  the  girl  back  to  the 
water.  Dropping  the  flowers,  she  slowly  walks  toward 
the  ocean.  She  stops  and  looks  at  the  vast  amount  of 
water  before  her.  A  wave  splashes  onto  her  bare  feet 
which  sends  a  tingling  sensation  up  her  spine. 

Hypnotized  by  the  ocean,  she  wades  deeper  into  the  water 
letting  it  cradle  her  like  a  baby.  Ignoring  her 
mother's  frantic  calls,  she  wades  deeper  into  the  ocean. 
Like  a  powerful  force,  the  child  slips  into  the  ocean  s 

grasp. 


Linda  Schmitt,  '90 


Night 

The  sun  goes  down,  it's  now  another  night. 
The  dark  blue  sky,  the  shining  lights, 

The  whispering  wind,  the  "who"  of  the  owl. 
The  chirping  of  the  newborn  swallow, 

The  constellations  so  big  and  bright, 

The  hunter  who  won't  give  up  the  fight, 

The  falling  stars, 

The  cold  brisk  air, 

The  night's  aroma  so  clean  and  fair. 


Tammy  Damron,  '88 


mmm 


James  Eckhart,  '90 


Racing  Under  The  Sun 

Tires  screeching 
on  the  hot  cement. 

Burning  rubber  smells  of  smoke. 

Down  the  weary  road 
Eighty  miles  we  burn  up... 

Racing  under  the  sun, 

A  dark  red  car  made  in  1952 
Slowly  makes  its  mark. 

Ten  blonde  boys  pile  in. 

"Race  until  you  reach  the  end  of  the  highway. 
Whoever  falls  the  fastest  off  the  cliff 
Is  the  winner,"  they  say. 


Katherine  Main,  '88 


Life 

Life  is  very  confusing. 

Parents  are  too  protective. 

Older  brothers  are  too  bossy. 
Older  sisters  are  too  mean. 
Younger  brothers  and  sisters 
Are  spoiled  and  are  brats! 

Life  is  so  complicated. 

You  don't  know  which  way  to  go  or 
which  way  to  turn. 


Dawn  Benthin,  '88 


81 


82 


All  the  Wrong  Reasons 

irtJ?frtt?  hid!  fr°m  311  the  Pain' 

tried  to  make  it  go  away. 

The  oourse  1  used  was  close  at  hand. 

,  h.I,tlpfed  the  bottle  again  and  again, 

I  had  not  a  worry,  i  had  not  a  carl 
Feeiing  nothing,  lighter  than  air. 

Later  I  woke,  it  was  all  back 

^t^eellK9SJ°f  hurt'  1  tried  to  forget 
Looking  ahead,  i  saw  closed  doors. 

I  wanted  my  source,  more  and  more. 

Thebkindenfnf°^Seri°n'  my  closest  friend, 
The  k?nH  rf  friendshlP  to  never  end. 

The  kind  I  never  need  defend. 

But  also  the  kind  that  cannot  mend.... 


Connie  Moore,  '89 


Jessica 

You  are  special  in  a  lot  of  ways 

You  were  our  Christmas  present  - 
Our  new  member  to  love  and  cherish. 

Some  say  you  are  spoiled  or  will  be 
But  you  are  just  loved  a  lot.  ' 

You  came  early 

But  for  you,  early  was  not  too  soon. 

Ann  o-iW^S*a  -*°y  when  you  looked  up 
And,  smiled  for  the  first  time.  P 

When  you  grasped  my  finger 
And  laughed,  i  felt  joy. 

Rm-  flhere  may  be  more  nieces  after  you. 
But  to  me  you  are  the  most  special 
Of  them  all. 

Remember,  when  you  get  older. 

You  will  always  be 
The  most  special  of  all  the  rest. 


Carrie  Weidenhamer,  '88 


83 


Vida 


It  has  its  ups 
and  downs. 

It  makes  you  laugh 
and  cry. 

It  makes  you  smile 
and  frown. 

It  makes  you  happy 
and  sad. 

It  makes  you  feel  wonderful 
and  terrible. 

It  makes  you  loved 
and  hated. 

It  makes  you  desired 
and  rejected. 

It  makes  you  pretty 
and  ugly. 

It  makes  you  interesting 
and  boring. 

It  gives  you  heaven 
and  hell. 

It  bears  you 
and  kills. 

It  is  the  one  and 
only  LIFE  I 


Angie  Baker,  '87 


Stacie  Wilkins,  '89 


Vida 

Tiene  lo  bueno 
y  lo  malo. 

Te  hace  reir 
y  llorar. 

Te  hace  sonreir 
y  gruncir  el  ceno. 

Te  hace  alegre 
y  triste. 

Te  hace  sentir  maravilloso 
y  terrible. 

Te  hace  amor 
y  odiar. 

Te  hace  desear 
y  rechazar. 

Tiene  lo  bonito 
y  lo  feo. 

Te  hace  interesar 
y  aburrir. 

Te  da  cielo 
e  infierno. 

Te  lleva  lo  para 
y  lo  mata. 

es  la  una  y  sola  vida. 


Angie  Baker,  '87 


The  Shining  Light 


The  clouds  slide  across  the  sky,  while  the  moon 
moves  in  and  out  between  them. 

A  light  is  shining. 

The  wind  screams  wildly  around  the  house;  whirling 
leaves  begin  flitting  through  the  grass. 

A  light  is  shining. 

The  storm  is  drawing  near  as  the  rain  pelts  down  on 
the  churning  sea. 

A  light  is  shining. 

The  storm  crashes  down,  beginning  its  destruction. 

A  light  is  shining. 

The  waves  crash  on  the  barren  rocks;  the  sand  is 
lifted. 

The  light  still  shines. 

As  dawn  breaks  red-gold  against  a  misty  blue  sky, 
the  waves  cease  their  terrified  churning,  the  wind 

stops  whistling,  and . 

The  light  stops  shining. 


Nikki  Carr,  '89 


Memories 

Pain,  foreshadowing  my  tears, 

Sweeps  over  my  soul  as  I  remember 
Our  first  moments. 

As  I  relive  our  last. 

Our  time  together  was  spent 
In  many  wonderful  ways. 

I'll  never  forget  those  moments, 

I've  stored  them  away  in  my  heart. 

Someday  we'll  be  together  again, 
Reliving  memories  and  making  more, 

But  until  that  day  - 

I'll  live  off  the  memories  we've  made! 


Kerri  Foster,  '88 


The  moon  shone  bright 
On  a  crisp  winter  night. 

Children  wrapped  up  tight, 

Watched  snowflakes  fall  by  the  campfire  light. 


Amy  Lindle,  '88 


The  First  Snowfall 

It  was  late  November  when  it  started.  The  sky  was 
letting  go  of  millions  of  snowflakes.  They  used  the  sky 
as  a  roller  coaster  -  coasting  down  every  which  way; 
some  having  parties  on  parked  cars,  some  meeting  new 
friends  on  the  ground,  and  others  dancing  on  window 
panes,  inviting  the  children  to  come  out  and  play  with 
them,  while  still  others  hitched  rides  on  the  eyebrows, 
eyelashes,  hair  and  noses  of  people  walking. 

Later  when  the  children  came  out  to  play,  the 
snowflake  gangs  on  the  ground  formed  snowballs,  flying 
through  the  air  like  birds,  and  slapping  the  children  in 
the  face.  Then  some  helped  the  children  make  snow 
angels  -  making  sure  that  everybody  was  in  the  right 
place  to  insure  a  perfect  angel.  The  ones  by  the 
sidewalks  and  steps  played  lifeguard  to  protect  the 
children  when  they  fell. 

The  snowflakes  had  a  nice  winter;  they  even  had  new 
friends  join  them.  But  now  it's  getting  hot. 

Eventually  all  the  snowflakes  will  melt  and  evaporate. 
Then  they  can  look  forward  to  next  winter! 


Carie  Brannam,  '90 


87 


88 


Home  Sweet  Home 


Jimmy  brought  his  small  suitcase  out  from 
underneath  the  bed.  Using  all  his  strength,  he  lifted 
it  onto  his  bed  and  unzipped  it.  He  put  in  his 
football,  his  stuffed  animals,  and  his  favorite  matchbox 
cars.  He  zipped  the  suitcase  back  up  and  pushed  it  off 
the  bed.  He  walked  down  the  stairs,  dragging  his 
luggage  behind  him. 

He  was  running  away  from  home.  His  mom  wouldn't 
let  him  play  at  John's  house,  so  he  was  going  to  leave. 
His  mom  was  in  the  kitchen  making  dinner.  Jimmy  said  to 
her,  "I'm  going  to  Tim's  house  and  I'm  not  coming  back." 
Tim  was  his  cousin  and  Jimmy  knew  that  they  would  be 
nice  to  him.  His  mother  waved  goodbye. 

Jimmy  stepped  out  the  back  door  into  the  warm 
summer  sunshine,  still  dragging  his  suitcase  behind  him. 
It  was  only  four  blocks  to  his  cousin's  house.  Walking 
down  a  back  street,  he  saw  a  group  of  kids  playing  tag. 
He  walked  over  and  joined  in.  He  played  with  them  for  a 
while,  and  he  was  very  proud  of  himself  because  he  had 
only  been  "it"  twice  in  the  whole  time  he  had  played. 

He  continued  walking  toward  Tim's.  When  he  was 
only  about  a  block  away,  he  stopped  to  pet  a  scruffy 
stray  dog  that  was  sitting  by  the  side  of  the  road.  It 
was  a  very  friendly  dog  and  he  played  with  it  for  a  few 
minutes.  When  he  got  up  to  keep  going,  the  dog 
followed  him.  Finally,  he  arrived  at  his  cousin's 
house.  His  aunt  opened  the  door  for  him.  "Your  mom 
told  me  you  would  be  coming,"  she  said. 

The  dog  wouldn't  leave,  so,  since  Jimmy  knew  his 
aunt  wouldn't  let  him  keep  it,  he  tried  to  sneak  in  the 
door  without  letting  the  dog  in.  When  he  got  inside, 
his  aunt  offered  him  dinner.  "You  must  be  hungry  after 
your  long  walk,"  she  said. 

"What's  for  supper?"  Jimmy  asked,  walking  over  to 
the  table. 

"Liver!"  his  aunt  replied. 

Jimmy's  eyes  widened.  "I  think  I  have  to  go  home 
now,"  he  told  his  aunt.  He  got  up,  grabbed  his 
suitcase,  and  ran  all  the  way  back  home,  the  dog  still 
following.  When  he  got  there,  he  was  welcomed  by  his 
parents . 

"We're  glad  you're  back!"  they  said. 

As  Jimmy  and  his  new  dog  went  out  to  play,  he 
decided  his  parents  weren't  so  bad  after  all;  and  he 
even  got  to  have  spaghetti  for  supper! 


JoDee  Brandon,  '88 


The  Patient  Fisherman 

Faint  morning  winds  outrace  me  as  I  look  upon  my 
surroundings.  The  birds  let  their  voices  flow.  The 
pine  trees  exhibit  their  sweet  smell.  Waves  gently 
churn  in  the  lake  below.  The  distant  sun  reflects  off 
the  water  and  blushes  my  skin. 

Below  me  the  waves  are  flowing  in  their  rhythmic 
pattern  and  splashing  against  the  rocks.  The  fish  are 
swimming.  Their  smell  emerges  upwards  towards  me.  I  can 
picture  the  fish  dipped  delicately  in  the  tasty  batter. 

I  look  around  some  more  to  see  the  small  boats 
meander  across  the  lake.  One  boat  directly  catches  my 
eye.  The  little  fisherman  sits  patiently  in  his  boat. 
His  pole  is  erect  as  the  line  dips  in  the  water.  His 
eyes  wander  while  he  waits  for  the  line  to  jiggle.  The 
expressions  on  his  face  show  thought  and  wisdom. 

Silence  from  his  tiny  boat  expresses  his  appreciation 
for  fishing. 

The  beautiful  landscape  encircles  the  big  house 
behind  me.  The  enormous  hills  slope.  Trees  shine  with 
color.  Drifting  boats  float  on  the  gleaming  water.  The 
sun  shines.  Winds  combine  scents.  Nature,  of  all 
forms,  seems  to  exist  only  here.  I  smell  the  sinful 
scents  of  the  blooming  flowers.  They  explode  with 
vibrant  colors. 

As  I  look  across  the  lake,  the  patient  fisherman 
that  had  no  catch  is  getting  one  now.  His  pole  is 
flexed  between  the  war  of  the  man  and  fish.  Pulling 
with  all  of  his  might,  he  nabs  the  fish.  He  brings  the 
net  to  hold  his  accomplishment.  His  face  is  held  proud 
with  pride.  The  air  is  filled  with  glee. 

I  realize  now  how  little  things  can  make  people 
happy.  You  should  not  take  for  granted  these  little 
things.  The  air  again  sweeps  through  me  as  I  watch 
.♦the  fisherman  leave. 


Susan  Dobbe,  '90 


90 


Alone  On  The  Beach 

Standing  on  the  beach 
Alone  am  I. 

The  tide  flows  toward  me. 

Gray  and  blue  is  the  sky. 

My  long,  dark  hair  is  brushing  against  my  skin. 
Grasping  my  cold  hands  together, 

I  think  of  nothing  but  the  sky. 

The  time  is  mine; 

My  time  alone. 


Katherine  Main,  '88 


Alone 


As  I  sit  alone  among  a  kind  of  my  own, 

I  listen  calmly,  it's  the  sounds  of  night. 
Cold  and  weary  I  tremble  with  fright. 

As  I  hold  my  dolly  tight 
I  whisper  to  her  "good  night." 

As  she  dozes  to  sleep, 

I  try  hard  not  to  weep, 

Remembering  how  mama 
Never  held  me  tight. 


Lesley  Hamilton,  '90 


91 


Connie 


Moore , 


'  89 


92 


From  the  Air 


From  the  air.... 

Everything  is  different,  smaller. 

The  cars  look  like  toys. 

The  land  is  a  patchwork  quilt. 

I  can  see  the  whole  city  at  the  same  time. 

It  doesn't  feel  like  I'm  moving  so  fast, 

But  the  speedometer  says  120. 

It  is  a  marvelous  sensation  to  be  a  bird.... 
A  mechanical  bird. 


Del 

Aire 

Del 

ai re  .  .  .  . 

/ 

Todo  es  diferente, 

mas 

pequeno 

Los 

coches  parecen 

se  r 

jugue tes 

La 

tierra  es  un  ed 

redon  de  parches 

Puedo  mirar  toda  la  ciudad  al  mismo  tiempo. 
No  me  siento  como  estoy  moviendo  tan  rapido 
Pero  el  velocimetro  indica  ciento  y  veinte. 
Es  una  sensacion  maravllosa  ser  una  ave.... 
Una  ave  mecanica. 


Marni  Mast,  '87 


A  Town  Lost  Without  Itself 

A  town  full  of  pride 
is  no  longer  taken. 

Torn  away  are  the  ideas  of  the  people, 
for  they  have  destroyed  it. 
Beautiful  and  young 
this  place  once  was. 

Its  scarlet  clouds 
gathered  each  day. 

The  land  was  rich  and  dark 
replenishing  food  for  its  children. 

I  see  a  town  of  people 
destroying  themselves, 
laying  down  the  ruins 
for  generations  to  come, 
looking  yonder  to  a  future 
that  is  nowhere  to  be  found. 


Katherine  Main,  '88 


Two  people  - 

we  can  talk 

in  front  of  others 

normal  conversation 

on  one  level 

intelligently 

but 

both  minds  are 
on  another  level 
the  same  level 
much  higher  than 
the  first 
and 

on  that  level 
we  are  having  a 
conversation 
only  it  comes 
out  through 
the  words 
we  are 
speaking 
on  the 

lower  level. 

Double  meanings 
secret  jokes 
we  both  know. 

A  smile 

here  and  there 
A  look 
A  laugh 
These  things 
might  give 
it  all 
away 

but  we  are 

good 

actors 

and  we  can 

cover 

for 

our 

slips . 

Under 
currents 
of  meaning 
flow. 

We 

think 
alike . 


Darcey  Timmerman,  '90 


La  Danzador 


La 

Danzador 
bailo  sin  la 
ayuda  de  un 
corografo  Usando 
solamente  su  imaginacion 
Ella  bailo"  a  la 
derecha  y  a  la 
izquierda  siempre 
^  agraciada. 

Quien  fue  esta  danzador? 
Ella  es  una 
llama . 


The  Dancer 
The 

Dancer 

danced  with  no  help 
from  a  choreographer. 
Using  only  her  imagination 
she  danced  to  the  right 
and  to  the  left 
always  with  grace. 

Who  is  this  dancer? 

She  is  a  flame. 


Kristin  Johnson,  '87 


Mark  Anderson,  '89 


The  waves  crashed  time  and  again  on  the  sandy  beach  as  I 
lay  upon  my  towel,  soaking  up  the  sinuous  sun's  rays  that 
spilled  its  spring  warmth  over  Freeport.  Through  tinted 
shades  I  watched  the  activities  around  me.  Parasailers 
fleeted  majestically  in  the  sky,  water— skiers  glided  over  the 
azure-colored  ocean,  people  played  football  and  frisbee  and 
swam  in  the  water.  The  tangy,  salty  air  was  filled  with 
noise.  Radios  blared  popular  tunes,  voices  murmured, 
seagulls  cried  overhead.  A  native  stopped  by  me  to  sell  some 
pineapple  and  coconut.  I  selected  a  bag  of  chopped  coconut 
and  paid  him. 

Just  as  I  sunk  my  teeth  into  the  last  piece  of  juicy, 
sweet  fruit,  a  blue  nerf  football  landed  before  my  eyes, 
scattering  sand  everywhere. 


Beth  Ketelaar,  '90 


Dancing  can  be  relaxing, 

By  yourself,  or  with  that 
Special  person 
In  the  dark,  dense  room 
Hoping  no  one  will  cut  in. 

Sweat  is  rolling  down  your  face. 
Your  body  rubbing  against  others. 
There's  hardly  any  space. 

You  feel  you  have  the  smothers. 


Holly  White,  '88 


Tomorrow  is  Thanksgiving. 

It  is  a  matter  of  living. 

The  bird's  in  the  oven. 

All  full  of  tender  lov'n. 

My  stomach  is  growling, 

I  feel  like  howling 

For  tomorrow  is  Thanksgiving. 


Kenton  Birtell,  '87 


HAPPY 


DAYS 


Cuando  estaba  a  punto  de  venir  a  los  Estados  Uni 
dos,  tenia  un  poco  de  miedo  por  que  no  sabia  como  iba  a 
ser  mi  vida  aca.  En  Peru  y  en  Sud  America  en  general, ( 
pensamos  que  la  gente  de  los  Estados  Unidos,  es  muy  fna 

o  antisocial.  , 

Cuando  llegue,  me  sentia  extrana,  En  el  aeropuerto 

me  esperaban  Don  y  Patricia  Wiest,  la  familia  con  la  que 
iba  a  estar.  Yo  estaba  muy  nerviosa,  y  ellos  tambien. 
Cuando  llegue  a  casa.  Dawn  nos  abrio  la  puerta,  y  me 
choco  un  poco  que  no  nos  saludamos  con  un  beso;  en  Peru 
y  Sud  America,  las  personas  se  saludan  con  un  beso;  yo 
sequTa  pensando  que  la  gente  aqui ,  era  fria. 

Al  dia  siguiente  fui  al  colegio,  Dawn  me  presento  a 
sus  amigas,  y  empece"  a  cambiar  mi  vision  con  respecto  a 
las  personas  de  aqui,  sus  amigas  fueron  muy  amables 
conmigo,  ademas  yo  me  sentia  mas  segura  porque  habia 
hablado  momentos  antes  con  una  profesora  de  Espanol , 

Sra.  Volkman,  y  me  brindo  su  apoyo. 

Desde  ese  momento,  mi  forma  de  pensar  con  respecto 
a  la  gente  de  U.S.A.,  fue ^cambiando ;  cada  vez  me  sentia 
mas  en  confianza,  y  conocia  mas  personas. 

Yo  vine  preparada  para  todo,  por  que  aqui  no  nay 
las  mismas  costumbres  que  en  Peru.  Aqui  la  gente, 
especialmente  las  mujeres,  son  mas  liberales,  en  Peru 

perdura  un  poco  el  machismo. 

Ahora  me  siento  triste  por  que  estoy  a  una  semana 
de  regresar  a  Peru,  y  tal  vez  nunca  mas  vuelva  a  ver  a 
alguno  de  los  tantos  amigos  que  tengo  en  Iowa,  quiero 
dar  las  gracias  a  los  alumnos  y  profesores,  por  que  en 
todo  momento  estaban  dispuestos  a  brindar  me  su  apoyo  y 
ayuda  en  cualquier  cosa  que  necesite.  , 

Nunca  podre  olvidar  esta  etapa  de  mi  vida,  fue  toda 
una  experiencia  para  mi,  una  linda  experiencia,  y  espero 
que  se  repita. 

Por  mi  parte,  voy  a  hacer  todo  lo  posible  por 
regresar  algun  dia,  porque  aqui  encontre  un  hogar. 
que  en  Iowa  tengo  un  papa,  una  mama  y  una  hermana; 
todos  solo  me  queda  deciles; 


Por 

Y  a 


MUCHAS  GRACIAS 
Su  amiga  de  Peru 


■ 

I 

■ 

■ 

« 

a 

■ 

■ 

■ 

■ 

■ 

■ 


Cecilia,  '87 


■ 

■ 

I 


DAYS 


HAPPY 

Before  I  came  to  the  United  States,  I  was  afraid 
because  I  didn't  know  how  my  life  was  going  to  be  here. 
In  Peru  and  South  America,  in  general,  we  think  that  the 
people  of  the  United  States  are  very  cold  and 
anti-social . 

When  I  arrived,  I  felt  foreign.  At  the  airport, 

Don  and  Patricia  Wiest,  the  family  with  whom  I  was  going 
to  stay,  were  waiting  for  me.  I  was  very  nervous,  as 
were  they.  When  I  arrived  at  the  house.  Dawn  opened  the 
door  for  us  and  it  bothered  me  that  we  didn't  greet  each 
other  with  a  kiss.  In  Peru  and  South  America,  the 
people  greet  each  other  with  a  kiss.  Here  they  don't. 

I  began  thinking  the  people  here  were  cold. 

The  following  day,  I  went  to  school.  Dawn 
introduced  me  to  her  friends,  and  I  began  to  change  my 
opinion  with  respect  to  the  people  here.  Her  friends 
were  very  friendly,  besides  I  was  feeling  more  sure  of 
myself  because  moments  before  I  was  talking  to  Mrs. 
Volkman,  a  Spanish  teacher  who  gave  me  her  support. 

From  that  moment,  my  way  of  thinking  with  respect 
to  the  people  of  the  U.S.A.,  was  changing.  Each  time  I 
felt  more  confident,  and  I  knew  more  people. 

I  came  prepared  for  everything,  because  here  there 
aren't  the  same  customs  as  in  Peru.  Here  the  people, 
especially  the  women,  are  more  liberal.  In  Peru  there 
is  still  machoism. 

Now  I  feel  sad  because  in  a  week  I  am  going  back  to 
Peru,  and  perhaps  I  will  never  return  to  see  some  of  the 
great  friends  that  I  have  in  Iowa.  I  want  to  give  many 
thanks  to  the  students  and  teachers,  because  at  every 
moment,  they  were  ready  to  offer  their  support  and  their 
help  whenever  it  was  necessary. 

Never  can  I  forget  this  stage  of  my  life.  It  was 
an  experience  for  me,  a  beautiful  experience;  and  I  hope 
that  it  will  be  repeated. 

For  my  part,  I  am  going  to  do  everything  possible 
to  return  some  day,  because  here  I  found  a  home.  I  have 
a  father,  a  mother,  and  a  sister;  and  all  I  want  to  tell 
you  is; 

MUCHAS  GRACIAS 

Your  friend  from  Peru 


Cecilia,  '87 


Preguntas  del  Corazon 

Al  sentarte  y  pensar,  al  sonar  y  esperar  de  lo  que  sera, 
al  mirar  y  esperar  los  dias  mejores,  dejas  pasar  los 
dias  mejores. 

Al  sentarte  junto  al  telefono,  nada  pasa  y  estas  sola. 
Esa  persona  especial  no  llama,  tu  corazon  se  esta 
hundiendo,  tu  mente  esta  pensando.  Esta  enamorado  o 
esta  solamente  jugando?  Con  quien  esta  y  cual  es  su 
nombre?  Ay,  si  pudiera  parar  esas  preguntas  locas  del 
corazon . 


Questions  of  the  Heart 

Do  you  ever  sit  and  think,  dream  and  hope  of  what  will 
be,  watch  and  wait  for  better  days,  let  the  good  ones 
slip  away? 

Do  you  ever  sit  by  the  phone,  nothing  happens,  you're 
all  alone?  That  special  person  doesn't  call,  your  heart 
is  thinking,  your  mind  is  thinking.  Does  he  care  or  is 
he  just  playing  games?  Who's  he  with  and  what's  her 
name?  Do  you  ever  wish  you  could  stop  those  crazy 
questions  of  the  heart? 

Melissa  Grimes,  '87 


Feeling  the  warmth  of  the  sun, 
I  smile  at  you . 

We  take  a  walk  to  share  a 
special  time  alone  - 
talking  of  the  past, 
looking  to  the  future. 

This  place  we  have  come 
to  gather  our  thoughts. 


Katherine  Main,  '88 


Dan  Whitcomb 


Laurie  Cawiezell